


Phage

by jacanas



Series: Trickster [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 100,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1416394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacanas/pseuds/jacanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An invasion by a foreign people often leads to further complications for the invaded. A strange pathogen begins spreading outward from New York, creating the very real possibility of a worldwide, deadly pandemic. All characters featured along with an OC. No non-canon pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would recommend reading my first story, Quicksilver, if only to understand the relationship dynamics in this story, as well as what the heck the characters are talking about in a lot of scenes. This story continues about a year and a half after Quicksilver.
> 
> This is based exclusively on movieverse (and comicverse), prior to Thor 2 and the other movies which follow, and I hope to feature brothers, family and friends.

The first case was an elderly woman with seven grandchildren. There were enough people in her family that the hospital room was crowded for several days in between treatments, blood transfusions and oxygen tanks. Each of her three children stood vigil by her bedside for days at a time, and her grandchildren stopped in as they were able to between work, or school, or whatever other activities they indulged in.

The symptoms were startling. It started as what she quaintly called a "case of the sniffles" and escalated into full-blown flu symptoms. Lung tissue necrosis began soon after, and within days she could not stop coughing a pint of blood a day. Near the end, the hospital forced the family from the room in order to keep her in isolation and prevent the spread of the unknown disease.

She died on the twelfth day.

One of her youngest grandsons showed symptoms next, and the parents rushed him into the hospital at the first signs of a cold, terrified of losing him to the same disease as his grandmother. Within a week, another funeral was scheduled.

The disease spread silently through the family, and then outward into the hospital population. It hit the local newspapers when the victim count hit seven, and the national papers when the count hit thirteen. Public perception veered from outright panic to apathy at this latest in a series of strangely named illnesses which the media so loved to latch onto. More than one pundit insisted that the worries were overblown, overhyped, downright stupid. Political motivations were assigned at times, and the CDC released a softly worded statement urging residents of New York and nearby cities to report signs of flu-like symptoms immediately.

All the while, the strain transferred quietly. Its method of dispersal was unknown, as were its origins; it could not be grown inside of a lab using known techniques. Isolating the culprit proved challenging, and in the end a lung tissue sample was removed from a victim and analyzed under an electron scanning microscope. The foreign entity was located lining the entire surface of a red blood cell. The description within the final report read "alien in appearance."

Media outlets coined a gimmick name: the Ridley virus. The name was repeated often enough that it became the accepted common term for this new strain.

The CDC convened an advisory board, which recommended that a higher authority be involved due to the apparent nature of the pathogen. Forty six days after the first recorded case, a black file was placed on SHIELD director Nick Fury's desk, the words  _Top Priority_  emblazoned in white across the folder. He returned to his office three hours later and took up the file, reading through the information and pulling up further reports on his terminal. Then he placed a call to someone with unlimited resources and a newfound conscious too big for his projects to sustain.

When Tony answered the phone, Fury explained everything that he could understand. When he was finished pleading his case and requesting assistance, the inventor waited a moment before giving his reply.

"I got someone for you. She's impressionable, young and backed by my investments. That cover it?"

"That'll do," Fury said. "I'll send the data over."

* * *

"Thor?"

"I am here, Jane."

"Just checking," she said. Her tone was absent, nearly dismissive, and Thor looked up from his task to observe her. Jane had her head down, nearly close enough to sniff the notebook she carried on her person at all times. She was working at a small, cluttered desk, not ignoring him, and the thunderer only chuckled to himself before looking back down. He gripped Mjolnir tightly in his right fist and gently struck the metal lying atop the bench, carefully shaping the form he desired.

"What are you working on?" she asked. She raised one hand and pushed a long string of dangling hair behind one earlobe.

"Come and see," he said. Jane hummed a noncommittal noise and continued to scratch her pen against the notebook. Thor waited patiently, and sure enough, after several seconds she raised her head to look at him.

"What?"

"Come see, and tell me your thoughts." Thor lifted himself to standing from the bench, stretching himself to his full height with a slight grunt. Jane stood from her own workbench and approached him, looking down at his project with bright curiosity.

"What is it?"

"It is a blade for an  _atgeirr,_ a traditional Asgardian weapon. I am molding it for Natasha."

"You make weapons?"

Thor lifted Mjolnir. "It can be used to both create and destroy."

"You're making a weapon for Natasha?"

"Yes," Thor said with a smile. "I feel that a spear is suitable for her."

"Why didn't you ask Tony to do it?" Jane leaned closer to the blade. "He can make any weapon you want."

"This is tempered Asgardian metal. I am afraid his tools cannot mold our metals."

"This is from Asgard?" Now he saw  _real_  interest in her, and raised his hand to stem the flow of never-ending questions. She drew a column down the center of a new page in her notebook and began jotting notes in her small, messy handwriting. "What's the difference?"

"Midgardian metals are tempered differently." Thor had learned much many ages ago, when Tony first pelted him with questions. "They are not so strong as those found in Asgard."

"Right - he told me about that. He's trying to duplicate the style." She nearly picked up the piece, but Thor stopped her.

"You may cut your hand on the blade."

"How many weapons have you made now?" she asked. "Is this a new hobby?"

"Perhaps," he said. "I find myself wanting to forge more often, now that I have tasted the fires of creation."

Jane laughed. "That's a strange thing to hear, especially when I know you mean  _exactly_  what you said."

"I do not mean to say I am superior -"

"Not what I meant." She kissed his cheek and patted his shoulder, moving back to her notebook. "When's your next trip home?"

"Will you come with me?"

That got her attention faster than before. She raised both eyebrows, eyes and mouth wide. Thor continued once she set the pen down, her sign that she was completely focused on him.

"As ambassador on behalf of Midgard. Director Fury has approached me about establishing regular contact, and trade, between our realms. Banner and Tony have made the same requests."

"You want me to be a liaison?" Jane could hardly keep still. "That's a lot of responsibility."

"The ambassador in charge of relations between Midgard and Asgard will be privy to a great well of Asgardian technology, and receive immunity within the realm." Thor took her hands in the hopes of playing to her emotional attachment to him. "There is only one mortal whom I would trust with such information."

"Stop playing me," she scolded, and drew her hands away. "This is big, Thor - this is  _huge_. We'd have to clear it with Fury -"

"I have already done so."

"Tony will want to come along at least once," she said. "He'll  _insist._ "

"Tony Stark is not my choice," Thor said. "He is not nearly so composed, and I do not trust his behavior in my mother's presence."

"Or anyone else's," Jane said. She sighed and leaned her elbow against the table, bracing her chin. "I'll need a few days to think this one over. This is a lot of...everything and I just need to think."

"It will also help in your pursuit of the machine you are working on."

Jane glanced at her notebook, chewing on her bottom lip. "That's true. Tony didn't set a deadline, but there's a lot of theory I don't have right now that Asgard might."

Thor could see that her thoughts were spinning in a direction which favored him, and reached for her. She settled easily into his lap, the position so habitual that she continued to pick at her fingernails while she considered her options.

"And," she continued, "you mentioned immunity. That could come in handy."

"Aye," he said, feeling distracted from the topic at hand. Jane flicked his nose and he laughed.

"Focus," she said, "this is serious!"

"Of course, Lady Jane."

She laughed and kissed him.

"That's better," she said.

* * *

Tony hated suits. He continuously adjusted his tie until he finally gave up and removed it, rolling it into a wad which he jammed into his coat pocket. He strolled across the parking lot of the Stark Industries Atlanta facility, the large logo a beacon for all to see his staked claim in the city. He wanted to move further south, closer to the research triangle, but the reason for this facility had informed him, in no uncertain terms, that she had no intention of leaving this city because someone else had decided for her.

Considering the one past similarity they shared, he had to respect that.

As he stepped through the doors, a receptionist waved from the front desk, a wide smile breaking across her features. She stood and he looked her over, not bothering with subtlety. When he was satisfied that she was exactly what he wanted greeting him every time he walked through these doors, he smiled at her and removed his sunglasses.

"How can I help you, Mr. Stark?" she asked. She wasn't trying for subtlety either; her eyelashes fluttered so much that he wondered if there was a breeze in the room.

"I'm looking for Lynn," he said. "She in today?"

"Miss Creed is in laboratory three, Mr. Stark." The disembodied voice made the receptionist jump; Tony smiled and winked at her.

"Thanks, JARV," he said, and started for the main doors.

"I'm afraid I can't let you enter without proper ID, Mr. Stark." The receptionist was still smiling. "It's against our security policy."

"I wrote that policy -"

"Actually, Miss Potts wrote the policy," JARVIS offered. Tony began approaching the desk, the same smile plastered on  _his_ face.

"- and I own this building. I own this property. I own every office supply you use every day, sitting at the desk I also own." Tony laid both hands on the receptionist's counter. His smile never wavered. "So let me inside."

"I'm afraid I can't."

The door to the left of the desk clicked, then swung open. Lynn Creed stood in a pair of tattered jeans and a loose-fitting, plain tank top. She was swarthy and small, her hair tied behind her head in a loose, ill-conceived ponytail. A worn pair of tan loafers covered her feet, though she wore no socks. When she took a step, he could see the tops of her feet and ankles.

"Tony?" she said. "What are you doing here?"

"Good grief, kid, you look like college." Tony felt overdressed in his suit as it was; Lynn shuffled from foot to foot self-consciously.

"I didn't expect you today," she said.

"Surprise. Don't tell me you wear those in the lab?" He pointed to her feet, so ill-protected that any spill could coat them instantly. "Don't they teach you anything in that cut-rate school?"

"He's fine, Janice - mark him as my guest," Lynn said to the receptionist. She dutifully marked several lines on a complicated-looking form attached to a clipboard, then offered the form with a pen to Tony.

"Sign here, please, Mr. Stark."

"The hell is this?" Tony lifted a hand, rejecting the offered clipboard. Lynn took it for him and set it on the counter, pointing to where he needed to sign his name.

"Consequences of being affiliated with the government. Here, sign this. She won't let you in otherwise."

"What's she gonna do?" Tony asked. "She one of Nick's?"

"She came recommended by Natasha," Lynn said. Tony relented and signed the form. Janice, still smiling sweetly - as she had been the entire time - offered him a bright red badge which proudly declared VISITOR across the front.

"Please wear this at all times inside the building, Mr. Stark," she said. Lynn swiped her own badge against the electronic sensor, then opened the door and waved him through. As soon as the door shut behind them, he shivered.

"Brr. Romanoff gave us  _that_?"

"Only once she heard you were the one asking," Lynn said. Her loafers thwapped awkwardly against the linoleum tiles. She was rubbing her hands together, out of nerve or shame he couldn't tell. Her twitching only got worse when they reached the lab door. She swiped her badge and opened the door, stepping inside first. Loud music blared through the doorway before the lights flickered on.

"Welcome back, Miss Creed," JARVIS said from overhead.

"Thanks, JARVIS. Cut the music, OK?"

The A.I. did so immediately, leaving them in sudden silence. Tony was looking around the bench tops, which only one year ago had been pure black. Now they were partially grayed in areas, some spots showing clear signs of chemical spills that damaged the black tops. Most of the work stations looked used, with various plated samples stacked at precarious angles and bottles labeled as assorted types of media and chemical concoctions.

"You alone today?" he asked. Lynn was hovering a bit, close to the door, and gave in after a few seconds when she realized he wasn't leaving soon. She walked by him toward her station.

"It's a Sunday," she said as she leaned against her bench, where a bucket of ice sat housing six small plastic tubes. "Sometimes people stop in. Today it's just me and Janice. She works a half-day."

"It's three PM."

"She comes in at noon. Neither of us wants to wake up early."

"You make the receptionist come in on Sunday?"

"That's your fault," she said with a sharp look. "Your rules say no one is allowed to be alone here, ever."

"Pepper's rules," he corrected. "I'll talk to her."

"And I don't make her do anything. People stop in all day Saturday and sometimes Sunday, so Janice works the front desk those days."

"What are you working on?" Tony prodded at a PCR machine, which hummed dully in the otherwise quiet of the room.

"Same as always," she said. "My thesis."

"Yeah, well, your thesis is going to have to take a back seat," he said. He pulled one of the rolling lab chairs to himself and sat, clasping his hands. "I have a better project for you."

"I can't stop working on my project," Lynn said. "I want my degree."

"What do you need to work on this for? You already  _know_  how it happened."

"But now I need to prove it to everyone else."

Tony shook his head. "Look, origin of life studies is great and all, but this is really important."

"How important?" After she spoke, from overhead, JARVIS said, "It's time."

Lynn put on small rubber gloves, then removed the first tube and added water using a pipette. Tony watched and evaluated her progress in skills. She'd been clumsy her first few weeks, slow and imprecise. Now she could pipette and swap tips while holding an unrelated conversation. He grinned.

"Very. The CDC threw up their hands and asked me to fix it." She paused in her work and looked at him. He sighed. "Well, they asked Fury to fix it, who asked me. Indirect is still direct."

"Yeah, OK," she said while rolling her eyes.

"Anyway, it's up your alley and I want you to take a look."

Lynn reached for a petri dish full of agar and removed the top. "What is it?"

"It's a disease. Deadly. They're calling it the Ridley strain." Lynn stopped at that, turning to look at him. "Yeah, the one from the news. Thing is, it's alien. And I don't mean strange, I mean it looks like we've got a second invasion going on."

Lynn blinked. Tony fidgeted and finally stood, unable to sit still for long.

"You can't be serious. I don't even have my master's yet."

"You got a lab, kid." Tony spread his hands in a grandiose gesture at their stark white surroundings. "High quality, all the latest gadgets - you've arrived."

"Not on paper." Lynn depressed the plunger of her pipette to inoculate the agar and placed the plate onto an automated spinner, which began to operate seconds later. She pressed a flat glass spreader to the agar and let the circular spinning do the spreading for her. "My research is what will earn me the degree, not your gadgets."

"They do help, though."

"Yeah." She couldn't deny it, so she didn't bother. She pressed a button on the side of the spinner; the plate came to a stop, and she capped it before walking across the lab and opening the incubator door. She laid the plate on the shelf and closed the door, then pulled the second tube from the ice and repeated the entire process.

"What do you want, Tony?" she asked. She placed the second plate on the spinner, watching her actions instead of his constant prowling around the facility. "You know you can just tell me to do it. You're my sponsor."

"Maybe I think you deserve a choice."

Lynn laughed. "I guess there's that."

"Yeah - look, kid." He sounded serious, even downplayed. She turned to look him in the eyes, a move which set him back into nervous motion.

"It'll involve SHIELD a lot."

Lynn jolted and shook her head.

"Tony, I can't -"

"They already know about you. File and all."

"Do they know about -"

"Your visits from the fairy hogmonster? No, they don't."

"But they could find out," she said. She'd stopped plating, her fingers drumming against the countertop. "If they find out, we could all be in trouble."

"I can handle trouble."

"Tony -"

"People are dying, Lynn." She looked up from the bench to him, and the haunted, faded look of his eyes made her look away. "They're dying because someone dropped a load of rotting dead aliens on the city."

"It's not your fault," she said. Tony laughed.

"Survivor's guilt is a bitch. C'mon, kid. Fury trusts me, and I trust you."

"I need help," Lynn said, straightening and starting on the final tube. "I need a real PhD in here, someone who can help me think things through." She looked at him from the corner of her eye. "Know any doctors who might be willing to help?"

"I can wrangle up a few."

"Do it fast," Lynn said. "The news says this could go pandemic, fast - if SHIELD was called in…"

"JARVIS, get Pepper on the line. We need some research done, fast."

"Yes, sir." The A.I.'s voice was replaced with a ringing noise, which then became Pepper's upbeat tone.

"Tony?" she asked over the speakers.

"Hey, Pep. Got a favor to ask."

They discussed on the overhead speakers while Lynn continued with her samples. She set the last plate on the spinner as the conversation finished with a list of names already being tossed about.

"Sounds like we're on our way," Tony said with an accomplished smile.

"Then I guess I have no choice," Lynn said quietly. Tony made a slight, strangled noise which she ignored. She put the final plate inside of the incubator and pulled both rubber gloves off of her hands with a quiet  _snap_.


	2. Fake

"What's with the red?"

They were sitting at an outdoor cafe table in a shady corner. Tony had pressed for a fancy restaurant, insisting that she give in and "live a little." She ignored him and came to her favorite little hole in the wall.

He'd put on a large pair of sunglasses which concealed enough of his face to keep him from being immediately recognized. Lynn was picking at the remains of a house salad, waiting for the soup she'd ordered to arrive as she sought out each and every candied cranberry from the mix. She saw Tony's hand coming and froze, letting him take down the hackneyed ponytail to pull forward a highlighted strand of bright red hair among the brown.

"What? You don't like it?" She swiped a hand at her hair, pulling it from his fingers.

"It's bright."

She laughed. "Are you saying it's too flashy?"

"I'm just saying, that is a very bright color for you," he said.

Lynn curled her toes inside of her loafers and shrugged.

"And what the hell is this?" Tony waved at her food. "I told you we could go anywhere you wanted. I gave you a blank check. And you get a field of greens."

"I hadn't eaten yet today."

"Like I didn't know."

Lynn made a face. "JARVIS is a tattle tale."

"Yeah. He tells me you're losing weight again."

"I'm fine," she said. "I'm just busy." She found what appeared to be the last cranberry and popped it into her mouth, avoiding looking at his sunglasses.

"God, kid, you sound like an old maid." Tony leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "We have got to get you a life."

"I have a life," she said defensively. "It's a good life."

"I found you in the lab on a Sunday."

"You work in your lab all the time."

"Pepper calls it my cave." Tony huffed indignantly. "She doesn't even say  _man_  cave. Just cave."

"I have a life," Lynn repeated. "You don't see it because you're on the other side of the country."

"You know that JARVIS logs your hours, right?" Lynn set her fork down and sighed. "Yeah. So I know how much life you got."

"Is this why you came all the way out here?" Lynn crossed her arms. "To scold me in person?"

"I'm not gonna scold. I'm gonna express concern."

"Are you having nightmares again?" Tony opened his mouth, then closed it again. Lynn raised her eyebrows and continued. "I can play this game, too."

"It's not a game, kid." Tony pulled his sunglasses off and squinted at her. "You've got to take care of yourself."

"I'll eat if you will."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Is this blackmail?"

"Looks more like hypocrisy," she said.

"Now wait a second -"

"You didn't even order anything." Lynn uncrossed her arms and leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the table. "Either set an example or quit nagging me."

"I don't nag," Tony said. "I express concern."

"Looks the same to me," Lynn said. Their waitress hovered several feet away, looking far more nervous than she had thirty minutes ago. "Put your glasses back on, you're scaring the staff."

"I'm on my best behavior," Tony said as he replaced the sunglasses. He beamed at the waitress when she was close enough to justify attention. Her nametag claimed her name was CODY, with a small smiley face sticker stuck just after her name. "Hey, sweetheart. How about a nice big fat steak for my friend here?"

"Tony -"

"We don't serve steak," Cody Smiley Face said. "I'm sorry, but are you -"

"Then get us whatever's the most expensive."

"We'll take two," Lynn added. Tony tilted his head at her, but didn't protest. She smiled.

"Yeah," he said to Cody Smiley Face. "I'm setting an example."

"And yes, he is," Lynn added more quietly. A sudden rush of red flooded the waitress' neck and cheeks.

"Oh my God," she said.

"Don't," Tony said, a little plaintively. Lynn waved her hand under her throat and the waitress took several deep breaths.

"Ok. Ok. I'm going to. Go put in your order," she said.

"Thank you, Cody," Lynn said.

"It's not easy having green," Tony said as she walked away. "If she tells the owner, we're done for."

"Do you want to leave?"

"I can handle it." He was gearing up for an audience. When he smiled at her, there was a leer which hadn't been there before. She saw her face reflected in his glasses.

Lynn stood and picked up her purse, a canvas cross-body which she slipped over her head.

"Hey, wait -"

"I can't handle when you're like this," she said. She could barely push the words past her tight throat. "I'm going."

"I'm done," Tony said, pulling off the glasses. He raised his hands. "See? I'm back."

Lynn paused, one hand gripped around the strap of her bag. Tony kept his hands raised.

"C'mon, kid, sit."

"I don't think I want to." Lynn unzipped the top of her bag and felt around inside. Various papers and receipts rustled under her fingers, until she produced a wrinkled ten dollar bill. She set the bill on the table, ignoring Tony's angry scowl.

"Now hold on -"

"No," she said. "You don't get to buy my life."

"That's not the point!" Tony was sitting up straight now, waving the bill at her. "Take it back."

"I'm paying for my lunch."

"Your funding is through Stark Industries."

"Yes?"

His voice raised in his annoyance. He flipped the bill at her; it fluttered through the air and fell against the tabletop, stuck against the wet side of a glass. "You're paying me with my own money!"

"Circle of life," she said, and walked away from him.

* * *

Sif found that she preferred traveling through the Bifrost. The Tesseract was gentle, its path a simple phasing from one space to another with little transition. On the bridge, she  _felt_  herself moving across the miles, the heady rush of colors and power surrounding her until she was placed, indelicately, on the ground once more.

The finality of the journey appealed to her. She was a forthright person, and appreciated the relative honesty of the Bifrost. One could be ripped, screaming, from where they stood, only to be tossed into a new location. The quiet moment of  _why_  which preceded each of her journeys was amplified for one terrifying moment until she stood once again on a solid surface and she could push her thoughts away. Each time she arrived to look about her surroundings,  _why_  faded until it was the barest wisp of a memory, replaced by certainty and resolution. Her travels to Midgard served a higher purpose, and for this she could withstand the Bifrost. When her feet touched ground at the end of a long journey, she felt accomplished, as though a battle had been fought and won.

And in these strange times, when the bridge closed behind her, stranding her in whatever location Heimdall chose, she was greeted by friends.

"Hail, Barton," she said when the world was revealed, raising her hand in the customary Midgardian greeting. She stood at the top of the aircraft carrier which SHIELD commanded, the ocean surrounding them on all sides. "How do you fare?"

Barton produced a small smile and waved in return, walking forward to greet her. He was looking down at the crates near her feet, and the smile became wider when he poked one with his booted toe.

"More presents?" he asked. Sif nodded. "Good. Natasha's been missing the sputterstones."

"I brought them, as requested, and a few of our other weapons which I thought you all might find appealing." Sif was looking behind him across the carrier, watching for any other arrivals. Clint leaned down to hoist up a crate.

"He's on mission with Natasha," he said. Sif nodded and crouched, prying open the box closest to her feet with her bare hands.

"Wait, and come see this weapon. Fandral thought you might be taken with it." While Clint set the crate back on the concrete, she lifted out a curved wooden bow with sharp turns at the ends, similar to a large hook. In the center of the bow was a coil of sinew, which she unwound and strung through one end of the bow.

"I think I can figure it out," Clint said. Sif smiled and continued without comment. She wrapped the sinew over the hook, rather than dipping straight down to attach to the other end. Clint raised his eyebrows when she pulled the bowstring tight, forcing the hook to flex outward until it pointed straight. She then strung the bottom, repeating the movements until the bow resembled a more traditional design, the hooks now stretched into a straight line due to the tension of the sinew.

She offered the bow to Clint, who had bent down while she worked to take up one of the arrows lying in the crate. He knocked the arrow against the string and drew back, his muscles bulging at the effort needed to draw an Asgardian bow. He aimed slowly, his arm steady, and exhaled before releasing the arrow. The recoil was powerful enough that he shook his arm, hissing at the idle pain of being taken by surprise. The arrow was lodged firmly into the concrete ground no more than twenty paces away. Clint flexed his fingers, working them until the twinge in the muscles eased, and looked at her.

"It is a húnbogi," Sif said, smiling at Barton's bright interest. "Not so mechanical as your own, but with great range and power."

"Tell Fandral he's my new best friend," Clint said with little inflection. Sif laughed, understanding his dry wit, and agreed to his terms. Together, they began moving the crates from the deck one at a time. On the second trip several SHIELD agents approached and offered to help, and soon the ten cartons were moved to the interior of the helicarrier. All were transported to the munitions center, where Sif began to both remove and sort Asgard's contributions to Midgard. Clint alternated between helping and asking questions about what she displayed, even asking for a brief demonstration of a more intriguing gadget.

"She's not your personal sideshow, Agent Barton," Fury snapped out as he entered the room. "Sif, my apologies." Fury's deep voice was tinged with annoyance, and he shot Barton an angry glance. "I told Agent Barton to inform me the moment you arrived."

"It is alright, Director," Sif said. "I believe Agent Barton wanted to be the first to lay claim to any items he took to."

"Damn right," Barton said, and grinned as he hefted a dagger. "Last time we didn't get dibs on  _anything_." He picked up a bag which jingled pleasantly and poured several native Asgardian coins into his palm. "Don't let Stark get his hands on these, he'll melt them down."

"I believe that was the intention," Sif said, and Clint creased his brow. "He requested metals which might bend to his attempted manipulations. The blacksmith Thor consulted suggested that our coins might present a weaker structure, and therefore be more malleable."

"Oh," Clint said.

"Sif, your quarters are ready when you like," Fury said. "Dr. Foster would also like to speak with you, when you have a moment. Agent Barton will escort you."

Sif bowed slightly to the mortal, who returned the gesture before leaving again. She looked to Barton, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

"No time like the present," he said, and led the way.

* * *

Despite her annoyance with the man, Lynn couldn't help a pang of belated guilt when she arrived home and stepped into the nicest home she'd ever had, furnished by Tony Stark and his bottomless piles of money.

Constant music filled her apartment regardless of her presence or absence. Lynn preferred it that way - the knowledge that no matter where she was, her apartment was always filled with sound. She couldn't stand the quiet anymore. She didn't like what she heard when nothing was there to distract her.

The Ridley disease, whatever it was, was spreading.

_People are dying._

Lynn had kept her hair in the ragtag ponytail, the red highlights giving her head an added dollop of color in any light. She was busy flossing and ignoring her rumbling stomach simultaneously, uninterested in eating only to have to repeat this process again. She clicked her teeth three times in quick succession and smiled at herself in the mirror. She winked at herself, and felt like an idiot for it.

_Survivor's guilt is a bitch._

She slid a long-sleeved fishnet shirt over her head, her thumbs slipping inside of holes at the end of each sleeve to hold it in place. A solid green tank top followed. Black leggings stretched from her ankles to her hips; a plaid skirt draped down to her knees, and brown boots with thick buckles covered her legs to mid-calf.

_I can handle trouble._

She wore no make-up, and looking in the mirror, she did not recognize herself. She reached for the only necklace she owned and latched the clasp behind her neck. The thick gold pendant hung in the space between her breasts and the hollow of her neck, a set of ornate designs curving across the surface. Next she inserted the earpiece, which rested inside of her ear perfectly. She shook her head hard, once, to test and make sure she had succeeded in placing it correctly. Then, quietly, she spoke.

"JARVIS?"

"Miss Creed?"

"What do you say when Tony asks where I am?"

"That you are out having the life he insists you do not have."

She grinned. "That's exactly right."

"You realize that his presence may become more common, now that you will be working on a project at his request."

"Yeah." Lynn clomped one booted foot against her coffee table and fiddled with the top, where a section had folded under and started poking hard enough to bruise. "Can you warn me?"

"Only when I am linked to the central server," JARVIS said. "I cannot access the data network while housed within the pendant."

"There's a lot I'll give up because Tony asks me to," Lynn said. She leaned forward, forearm lying across her bent thigh. "You know why. But he doesn't get my Sundays."

"Would you like to start a new file?"

"Sure," she said. "Call it Ridley V. And add a note to my thesis questions: ask what it smelled like."

"Done," JARVIS said, and she grinned. Through patience and insistence, she had broken the A.I. of the constant "Miss Creeds," and their conversations were more relaxed because of it.

_Then I guess I have no choice._

Lynn picked up her guitar case, now equipped with a strap which she hung on one shoulder, and left her apartment. The JARVIS left behind inside of the walls of the apartment locked the door behind her and turned out the lights.

* * *

Sif stepped into Jane Foster's presence with a demeanor of restrained hostility. The woman's relative frailty grated on her endlessly; where Natasha, despite her humanity, exuded confidence and strength, this tiny woman of Thor's only gave the impression of frazzled nerves. Her thoughts were forever scattered as debris in the wind, and Sif found conversations with her challenging and often frustrating.

She remembered a time, so long ago, when she had enjoyed this woman's presence, if quietly resented her existence as Thor's mortal beau. She still felt some of that same resentment, though dampened now with memories of a more fond nature to distract her from her previously held affections for Thor.

Yet Thor was still her friend, and she could not help evaluating the woman of his choosing. In truth the choice mattered little; Thor's interest could be stronger than stone, yet Jane's mortal heart was not, and within less than a century her body would succumb to the mortal coil. Sif worried not for Thor's present, where he appeared content to live a simple life with this human, but for his future, where she would no longer be alive. In the end, Thor's future held many more centuries alone than it did with Jane Foster, and Sif regretted that her friend had so doomed his heart to failure.

"Sif!" Jane cried the moment she spotted the tall warrior, who smiled in greeting and stepped further inside the room. A pile of parchments covered the desks surrounding Jane, and two separate screens flashed data intermittently.

"Hello, Jane," Sif said, and clasped Jane's hand in the familiar Midgardian fashion. "Director Fury said that you wanted to speak with me."

"Yeah," Jane said, clearing a stool to allow Sif to sit. When she did, the seat protested with a heavy creak. "I have some advice to ask."

Sif clasped her hands and leaned forward, the closest to a crouch which this awkward stool allowed her. She dreaded the topic to come, fearing that Jane might ask her for counsel involving her relationship with Thor. Beyond being his friend first, and therefore having her loyalty squarely faced in his direction, she was inexperienced at such conversations. She had always preferred to keep the company of men to women, and though she knew that such talks occurred, she had never engaged in one herself and was uncertain of how to proceed.

Her chest tight with foreboding, she nodded at Jane to indicate that she was ready to hear the request. Jane squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and said:

"Thor's asked me to be a liaison between Asgard and home. I've never done anything political, and he's too certain I'll manage to be helpful." She looked so plaintive, and lost. "Can you teach me how to act and dress properly for Asgardian court?"

A long moment passed. A second. Sif blinked and leaned away, crossing her arms instead to maintain her balance. Jane began to look worried, until Sif produced an honest, open smile.

"Yes," she said to Jane's relieved expression. "That is something I can certainly do."

* * *

Lynn liked the noise, and she liked the activity, and she liked the  _life_  which filled the Earl. Before she was even within sight of the place, she could hear the sounds of an active nightlife, and breathed in the scent of a crowd.

_People are dying_.

She handed her guitar over to the first employee who approached her and searched the faces closest to the stage. When she spotted the one she wanted, she broke into a grin and sidled to his side. He had his back facing her; she grabbed his plaid sleeve and pulled gently to get his attention. He turned mid-sentenced and laughed when he saw her, wrapping her in a one-armed hug.

"Look who made it," he said with an easy smile. "How's things?"

_Survivor's guilt is a bitch._

"Things are things," she said. He let her go and waved to the bartender, motioning with one hand to indicate a bottled drink, then pointing to Lynn. The tender nodded and turned to crack a beer, which was slowly funneled through the crowd in her general direction.

"I haven't eaten much today, Brent," she said as the bottle ended up in her hand. She shot him an annoyed, humored look.

"That's pure protein in your hand. Drink up, we've got thirty minutes."

She was already sipping; her cheeks flushed with the sudden swell of courage which radiated from her stomach. After half a bottle, she was already dizzy, and Brent was pushing a fried chicken wing into her free hand.

"Eat, Lynn."

"Yep," she said, and ate the beer-battered wing without pause. Thirty minutes became twenty, and then ten, and then she was being pulled along and her guitar was pushed into her hands, tuned and ready to go.

She raised both hands at the crowd, and their energy flowed into her. The sounds pumped in her ears; the high-pitched shriek of feedback made her wince and laugh. Brent stood next to her and grinned as well, his own fist raising as he fed the crowd.

"Ready?" he asked her, shouting above the clamor.

"I'm ready," she said. When she looked at the crowd, there was a leer which hadn't been there before.

* * *

JARVIS spoke softly into her ear due to her flinching away from a higher volume, guiding her home with gentle insistence. It was two, or four, or maybe later and earlier, and Lynn had no idea what time it was when she finally got home and gave up on trying to think of the correct numbers.

"No bright lights," she slurred to JARVIS, forgetting that the pendant was not attached to the apartment. As requested, when the door opened the overheads were barely on, the dim light just outlining the furniture in her way - the JARVIS in the walls knew the day and the time, and knew that this was a time to keep the lights low.

She picked her way through the sparse area, hand against the wall as she giggled at nothing at all. Her pupils were dilated and yet she struggled to see her way, relying on the calm, patient voice in her ear to direct her where she needed to go. She draped the pendant across her bathroom counter and brushed her teeth, as instructed. A quick glance in the mirror made her look away with a quiet snort.

She did not recognize herself.

"I can handle trouble," she muttered, and laughed at her own joke. The voice in the walls suggested that she drink a full glass of water, and she moved toward the kitchen to obey. She picked out a tall plastic cup, aware enough to want to avoid breaking a glass, and filled it to the brim. She brought the cup to her lips, water sloshing over the edges to bead against her wrapped hand, and took a healthy series of swallows. She stopped when it began to hurt, and lowered the glass to stare at the small fishbowl which perched on the windowsill behind her sink. A blue betta with green tips on his fins drifted lazily in the water.

"People are dying," she said to the betta. She wiped the back of one palm against her right eye and sniffed. The air felt heavy, and she realized that someone was behind her a moment before the voice reached her ears.

"Welcome home, Amma Lynn."


	3. Soft Rains

She could have asked him why he was here, or what he wanted, but her eyes were so unfocused that his head looked too large, far larger than needed, and the sight made her cover her mouth to prevent a loud laugh from escaping. As it was, she coughed into her hand noisily, sputtering in her attempt to swallow her own outburst. Loki said nothing. Maybe he wasn't really here. That was possible - it was Sunday, and he never showed up on a Sunday. Sunday was  _her_  day.

She looked him up and down, head to toe and back, and said:

"Why do you always wear green?"

And he did, he  _always_  wore that color. She'd seen the pictures from Stuttgart. Even when he was trying to blend in, the scarf was green. She had wondered why for months, trying to think of some particular reason without taking the time to look up symbolism in colors. From what she had seen so far, Asgardian men did not change their clothes often. Very unhygienic.

"Why are  _you_  wearing green?" he asked. She saw his puffed up pride at tossing the question back at her, a particular trick she used more often than not on him. She thought of not answering, just to make him angry. Loki hated not knowing answers.

He hated being confused even more, and she was loose enough to not care about pissing him off.

"Punk night - well, grunge." She dipped the hand with the glass down, indicating the skirt. "Fake. I like to play pretend."

He wanted to ask, oh how he wanted to. She could see his frustration at not knowing precisely what she meant. It wasn't fair. Normally she would explain with more details, thinking in some odd way that by learning of humans she might make his crimes more real.

_People are dying. That's your fault._

"And it is," she said out loud. "It really, really is."

He had started walking while she thought herself into a circle, and turned when she spoke. She was making less sense than usual. Guilt caught up to her, and she realized she didn't like confusing him needlessly.

"It's music," she said in belated clarification. He waved a hand at her outfit.

"Pretend. Then all of this is to deceive."

"Sure," she said hazily while she took another sip. The water was helping to clear her head, slowly. She giggled.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked. He had the nerve to sound annoyed with her, and she couldn't help herself - she laughed at him.

"I'm happy," she said. She winked and took another sloshing drink of her water. It was cold where it soaked through her shirt. "You've never seen it. Don't be sad; it only happens when I…" She raised her free hand and tilted it toward her mouth, thumb poking her lips.

"I see," he said. He was lying. She didn't care.

_The British gave natives blankets, all covered in small pox. It was on purpose. Did he do it on purpose?_

"People are dying," Lynn said. Loki raised both eyebrows.

"I imagine that is true. Your species spends more time dead than alive."

"And it's your fault." She wasn't happy anymore. A sudden fog of melancholy settled over her. The water was no longer helping; she set the glass in the sink and washed her hands.

"Dare I ask how you have decided that it is my fault?" he asked. She could hear that he was behind her, close enough to hear the rustle of his clothes. She stepped to the side and opened her refrigerator. "You sound very sure."

"Your friends left us a present," she said as she pulled the egg carton out, along with a package of bacon. "It's spreading through New York. It's a killer. Fast, too." She set the carton and bacon on the counter, then reached to pull a pan from underneath and set it on the gas stove. She turned the heat to medium and pulled down a cup, which she began cracking eggs into. A bit of shell fell inside, and she used her finger to try and remove it.

"They're saying it could go pandemic. That would be bad. We don't have anything to fight it off. I'm going to look into it; Tony says labs everywhere are gearing up. We have to hurry."

"What are you talking about?" It sounded like Loki was no longer pacing. She was glad she had his attention.

"Ever been sick?" She glanced at him; he tilted his head at her. She looked back at the pan, sprayed it down with anti-stick spray, and started laying strips of bacon horizontally across the surface. "Didn't think so. We get sick. Really sick. Bad enough to kill us sick. And this thing - it's a killer." It deserved to be mentioned twice.

The bacon popped after a few seconds; she turned the heat down. "There's forty-two confirmed cases. Probably more unconfirmed. If it starts spreading from the city, quarantine might be needed. SHIELD has a whole file about it. Tony sent it to me to look over."

"I am not responsible for this." Lynn turned the bacon. She didn't reply until she removed the bacon and set it on a paper towel, resting on a plate to soak in the grease. She poured the cracked eggs in next, cooking them in the bacon grease.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked as she ladled the eggs onto a fresh plate. "You wanted a kingdom, and you brought the Chitauri here to get it." She picked up three strips of bacon with her tongs and turned to him.

"Now we're dying," she said, holding the plate out to him. He took both plate and fork while watching her, so quiet that she wondered if he were really here. She let got of the plate, expecting it to fall to the ground without a real hand holding it. It hovered in the air instead, held in place by his palm. When had she gotten so brave?

"Did you know?" she asked. She felt so sad, watching him look down at her with a strange, near-offended gaze.

"No," he said quietly. "I did not know."

"Sit and eat," she said, and clicked off the stove.

* * *

Steve and Natasha returned three days after Sif's arrival. She had nearly decided to return to Asgard prior to their arrival, and the news was welcome. She greeted them as they disembarked their flying vessel with a strongly clasped hand, the Midgardian custom. Both of them seemed exhausted; dark circles plagued their eyes, and Natasha excused herself almost immediately to take advantage of bathing, eating and sleeping.

"In that exact order," the assassin assured her before leaving.

Steve managed an honest smile for her despite his fatigue.

"Good to see you, Sif," he said as he clasped her shoulder. "No sparring today. I'm too tired."

"I am not always in need of violence," she said. He smiled and she was glad to see it; his mood was not dark, he merely needed rest. "You are in need of sleep. It would be wise to follow Natasha's example."

"Walk with me," he said. She fell in step beside him and they walked in companionable silence.

"I've missed you," Steve said after a few minutes. "How's home?"

"The realm fares well, though trouble brews from afar."

"Does trouble ever not brew?"

"No," she said warmly, and he raised his eyebrows. "It would be a dull life indeed, should peace truly come to the realms."

"If Asgard needs help, you know you can call on us."

"Why have you not returned to Asgard?" Sif asked. "You have the means."

"I'm needed here," Steve replied.

"But you are not," she said. Steve creased his brow and looked at her. She found a bench at the side of their path and sat, her long limbs folding underneath her. "That is to say, you are not always needed. You are capable of leaving your post at times."

Steve nodded.

"But you will not abandon it regardless."

"I'm needed here," he repeated more quietly. She saw the flicker of his eyes around them, a slight twitch in his bearing.  _It's not safe to talk here,_  he said.

"I understand," Sif said. "Shall I leave you to your rest? I can see how tired you are, for all that you would deny it."

He laughed. "It's that obvious?" He offered a hand to help her stand. She knew him well enough to recognize the gesture as courtesy rather than insult.

"You are very like Thor," she said as she took his hand and raised herself. "Too proud to admit your limits, and stubborn too."

"Not nearly as strong, though."

"Perhaps not in body," Sif said. "But there are many times when a pure heart is a greater boon than a sure blow."

Steve looked away, down the hall toward his quarters. She took her leave of him to allow him his thoughts.

* * *

She didn't like to leave someone without food while playing hostess, an old habit of hospitality which she had long given up trying to stop. After things settled, when all of them were feeling less emotionally drained, the Avengers had visited her one by one, and Lynn had cooked for all of them. Any visitor at all triggered the reflex, and she hadn't thought about what she was doing until she was done.

She had forgotten, or at least let herself stop caring. He was sitting at her table eating the food she'd cooked for him, so quiet that she couldn't hear the touch of utensil to plate, and she could not stop thinking to herself:  _you are a murderer._

Lynn was analytical, and his crimes were in the past, over a year ago and so distant that she could barely comprehend what he had done. She instead compartmentalized his actions, dissected and isolated them away from the rest of the man until she could only think of his crimes in a distant, unfocused sort of way. He had done terrible things, and his actions had led to hundreds of deaths. All because of him.

But she hadn't  _seen_  those crimes. They had not happened to someone she personally knew or cared for, except the heroes who saved the day. They were far away, statistics which held little meaning outside of a number.

Tony had sent her the file on the Ridley strain, which was lying open on the coffee table. She looked over now to see the corner of a glossy picture reflecting the dim overhead light. She'd come to that picture and lost her resolve to continue, setting the file down and hugging herself before leaving it there, exposed.

That was less than a day ago.

She had pushed herself to read past the top of the entry.  _Kyle Brogan, age 4._  His parents had rushed him to the hospital as soon as he displayed symptoms, because his grandmother was the first. Only four days later, he died from massive hemorrhaging of his lung tissue. She knew this not because she had read the entire diagnosis, but because underneath the picture of his young face, a picture of his dissected upper body waited. A body too young to be so mangled. Lungs too small to handle the complications of ruptured lung cells.

He had died wrapped in plastics and chemically sterilized fabrics, his parents alien creatures peering at him from behind plastic visors in the hospital's irrelevant attempt to prevent the spread of infection. Not to the parents, but to  _him_.

His parents had succumbed soon after. The real spread started from their home, a brownstone close to the original site of attack which had yet to be fully cleaned up. The city had expended a great deal of expense to clean and renovate the pricier venues, the business complexes and office buildings. The residential areas had come next, and were still under construction as the money promised for restoration was slowly leached toward side projects and political favors.

SHIELD sequestered the alien corpses they found. Beyond that, no further attempt was made to fully cleanse the city of their alien invaders. Some spots of purple blood still dotted the landscape where rain couldn't penetrate the concrete, and the various animal scavengers of the city had eaten their fill of the new food source while it lasted.

She knew the pattern of spreading. She had some theories for the  _hows_ , and the mechanisms which might have played a part. She was ready with a list of questions to answer, hypotheses to test, experiments to begin. But the  _why_  of it all haunted her.

It wasn't because of some mutation of an Earth virus, or some new strain of undiscovered native bacteria. No, the reason was sitting at her table, eating so quietly she wanted to scream at him,  _you're a murderer, a murderer -_

She cleared her throat and turned away from him. The cooking pan was dirty, the grease caking to the sides. She pulled it from the stove and slid it into the sink. Just before she turned on the water, Loki's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"You are avoiding looking at me."

She paused, considering her options. She was too tired, edging toward hungover, to make up a convincing lie. She shrugged and flipped on the water rather than respond. As she began wiping down the metallic surface, a hand reached from behind and pressed the lever down, cutting the flow of water.

"Look at me, Amma Lynn."

She grabbed a dish rag hanging from a hook next to the sink and wiped her hands. "I'm not sure I can right now."

Hands gently set on her shoulders and turned her; a palm tilted her head up. She looked into his face and all she saw was Kyle Brogan, age 4.

"There," he said with a slight smile. "The difficulty is only within your head."

"You're a murderer," she said. He dropped his hands and tilted his head. There was no outburst, no sudden rush of denials. They both knew it was true.

"It was easier before, when I couldn't see what you've done." She lowered her head and leaned back against the sink. She felt water soaking into her shirt. "I see this. I see what it's doing to these people." A deep breath. "I need a break."

"A break." He sounded uncertain of her meaning. Lynn laughed. Wasn't it obvious?

"Yes. I need you to stay away for a while."

A flash of something like fear crossed his expression. He turned away to begin a slow pacing around her den. The file sat wide open, and she saw the moment he realized what it must be. He paused in his steps, staring down at the young, smiling face of Kyle Brogan, age 4.

Then he continued walking.

"It fascinates me," he said.

"What does?" Lynn was distracted by the sudden shift, and he continued speaking to her curiosity. Baiting her away from her stated intentions.

"I am encouraged by all sides to continue my visits to you," the trickster said while picking up one of her school books. He opened the book randomly and skimmed over the page, eyebrows raising at the images. "Have you not considered why that might be?"

"Because I'm likable. And you could stand to be." Lynn tried to take the book away. Loki simply held it higher than she could reach, and she puffed out a breath of exasperation. "Case in point."

"You are wrong, anyway," he said, and offered her the book. "They think I am being tamed by you, as Jane Foster once tamed Thor."

Lynn shuddered. "We are not a couple."

"No. And of course, I would need to allow it, wouldn't I? To let you inside my head - to allow your moral compass to become my own - how exhausting life would be, if I were so terrified of the slightest sounds."

"Only when I don't expect someone." She slid the book into her book bag and made a mental note to pull it out later. "Besides, Jane didn't change Thor."

"No? He certainly emerged quite scathed from the experience. A mere three days in her enlightening presence and…" Loki trailed off when he saw the expression on Lynn's face. "Whatever is the matter, Amma Lynn?"

"You think it was Jane who changed him?" She was being guided back, slowly, unavoidably. He could see the disgust rising in her again.

"Of course," he said, confused.

"You're wrong." Lynn sat on her couch, hands cupping her elbows in a quietly defensive position. Her ever-present fear grated on him. She was staring at the young boy's face. "It was you."

"My dear, you will need to be more specific." Loki moved to the coffee table before her and sat, blocking her view of the file and its silent reminder. He still towered above her, but without the aid of his natural height, he looked less large and therefore less imposing. Some of the shadows left her eyes at the change, and he leaned forward to complete the image of relaxation. She wasn't fooled, but her eyes were, and for the moment that was enough.

"It was you, Loki. Don't you get that?" Strangely, her voice wavered in housed pain. She felt emotionally attached to this point, which meant it must be related to -

"Family is but a burden, Amma Lynn."

"Only to those who have one." She stood and he remained seated, merely turning where he sat to watch her prowl the room. "Had you ever done anything like that to him? Ever? You betrayed your brother, got him banished and then tried to kill him. You're the reason he changed, Loki. You."

She stopped and stared down at him, watery and shaking with emotion. He lifted his top lip in a sneer in response to her emotional outburst.

"Just because you didn't trust anyone, doesn't mean no one trusted you." So sad, even heartbroken. His attempts to distract her had failed; nothing would sway her now.

"I know what you're trying to do," she said. He already knew this, and so made no comment. "I need you to leave now."

He stood. "No."

She covered her face and took a deep breath through her palms, raising her hands to curl her hair around the fingers. He wondered how many times she had rehearsed this speech, and if it were going as well as she expected.

"I want a chance to look in the mirror and not see someone who just cooked a meal for a mass murderer," she said. Her voice was clipped, tight with pain. She didn't need to look at him to know his temper was rising. "Especially not one who sees nothing wrong with what he's done."

"My whims will not be controlled by a mortal."

"Why are you acting thick?" Lynn's face was twisted with scorn, even disgust. "Is it because I'm saying what you don't want to hear?" He saw wrinkled lines around her eyes. He'd never noticed them before, and he wondered what stresses were aging her prematurely.

"Leave," she said quietly, her voice a cold steel which he had never heard before. When had she become so brave? "Don't make me call them."

He was unaccustomed to rejection from her. His disappointment spiraled down into cruelty, an outburst waiting for an outlet. He wanted to be violent with her, to show her why it was unwise to anger him. He could kill her before she touched the phone, before she even moved for the phone.

Yet she needed no phone, and the walls were listening closely.

Violence veered into maliciousness due to necessity. He bowed low to her, formal and mocking, and the snarl on his face made clear his true emotions.

"Farewell, Amma Lynn."

And he was gone.


	4. Maroon

The observatory had long since been repaired, the Bifrost healing itself with the power of its own energies. Loki stood at the threshold, his mood dark, and considered what the little mortal would do if he finished what he had started so many months before. He had no taste for Midgard any longer, for the desperate clamoring for power and control which so consumed mortal lives. Instead, he wanted to lay waste to the foundations, to turn the Bifrost and its raging furies against the soil and watch the planet burn. And just before the fires of penance touched her, he would appear to her, just once, to laugh in her face as she begged him to stop, pleaded with him to  _stop this Loki_  -

"You cannot sway that one so easily," a deep baritone said behind him. Loki turned to regard Heimdall with a blank expression. The warrior stood still, gripping his sword with two broad hands.

"You were not violent with her," the gatekeeper said. Loki turned away again.

"I wanted to be," he admitted to the pedestal in the center of the room. "I boiled with hate." And yet he had not touched her. "What has happened to my fury?"

"You have not been tempered. Sheathed, perhaps - but you are still dangerous."

"Are you so certain?" Loki asked.

"What would you have done, if another mortal had said such things to you?"

The burst of insolent pride made his gaze bleed red; to have felt the fool's throat  _crack_  under his palms would have been a mercy too swift. He turned to Heimdall, steady as the stars, and said nothing.

"You see now," the gatekeeper said. He looked away for the first time, toward the opening in front of them where the stars stretched for light years ahead of them. "Would you like me to watch her for you?"

"There was a time when my desires were beyond you," Loki said.

"No," the gatekeeper said. "Only beyond my concern."

"And now you feel  _concerned_  for me?" Loki's voice was grating with temper; he needed a target, and with this statement good Heimdall was kind enough to provide one. "Is this pity I hear?"

"No," Heimdall said. Even and sure as ever. Loki hated that he could not spur the man's temper.

"Then what?" he demanded angrily. "Why have you suddenly been overcome with my well-being? Mockery?"

"You are quick to assume that others jest at your expense." Heimdall's fingers seemed to twitch. Loki wondered how badly he wanted to bury the sword inside of the trickster's sternum, hilt-deep to ensure that the injury would never heal in time. Loki began pacing - forever pacing, forever turning an about-face to return the way he had come from. He would never move forward for the circles he ran around his own thoughts.

"It is often true."

"You forget what I have seen."

Loki could not stop, but he could shoot a sharp glance at the gatekeeper as he passed. "And what have you seen?"

"Your unmaking."

"I am as whole as I ever was," Loki said. He stopped now and creased his brow. "I know who I am."

Heimdall watched him, the gold in his irises as unchanging as the rest of him. But gold was a soft metal, unable to withstand a proper forge, and Heimdall was not weak. Brass, instead, seemed to be his strength.

"Yes," Loki said belatedly, speaking once more to the pedestal. They both knew what he wanted; he did not clarify further.

"You are as you have always been," the gatekeeper said. "Volatile."

* * *

The samples arrived under heavy supervision, the official SHIELD carrier a strange addition to the otherwise unassuming lot. Lynn noted the lack of protesters or news reporters when she arrived, and said as much to Dr. Banner when he dismounted the vehicle.

"Top secret and all," he said with a smile. She waited for him to finish cleaning his glasses, fogged with his own nervous sweat, before offering a friendly hug. Behind them, Tony snapped directions at the SHIELD agents, mainly involving potential consequences of damaging his property.

"He's in rare form," Bruce said with a tired, worn-out expression. "He's closed the Tower until this thing is cleared. All of the employees are on paid leave."

"Don't tell me he bought them tickets," she said. Bruce looked apologetic.

"The most popular request was Vegas."

"Well, that's one way to keep them safe." Lynn didn't like that. Tony was trying to help, but he might have inadvertently spread the disease.

"He had them screened before they could leave," Bruce said, and she felt her shoulders relax.

"Did it really need an escort?" She waved her hand at the full arsenal surrounding the building, as though a foreign terrorist were being escorted inside. In a way, it was true.

"According to Nick we're lucky there wasn't an actual army."

"This seems like a terrible compromise."

"It's because I came along," Steve said as he rounded the corner from the back of the truck. Lynn brightened and jogged over to hug him, grinning.

"What, is this a reunion?"

"It should've been," Steve said as he pushed her back by her shoulders. She held still for his inspection, and couldn't help but laugh when he pulled a chunk of bright red hair forward and raised his eyebrows in blatant disapproval.

"Don't act old," she said before he could speak.

"What have you done to your hair?" a heavily accented voice spoke from behind. She leaned to the side to peer around Steve's tall frame and found Sif staring at her with raised eyebrows as well.

"It's weave," Lynn said. "Hair woven into mine. I wanted a change."

"You have taken someone else's hair?" Sif seemed horrified, and Lynn realized how the explanation must sound to someone from a warrior culture.

"Not like that -"

"Stop slacking!" Tony clapped Steve on the shoulder and pointed at the barrels behind him. "Liquid nitrogen," he said to Lynn's raised eyebrows. "Keeps it latent."

"It can survive that?" Bruce asked. Lynn said nothing; apparently Tony hadn't thought to spare the file for anyone else.

"The kid'll fill you in," Tony said. He caught her expression. "What? Teaching's the best way to learn, right? You wanted a PhD, I got you one."

"What?" she asked, and Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tony," he began.

"Nope," Tony said. "Best interview ever."

"There wasn't one!" Bruce looked angry.

"Best kind," Tony said with a nod. "Look, Steve got Sif to help."

Despite the annoyance flitting through the group, they all turned to watch Sif heft one of the nitrogen tanks one-armed. Steve was saying something to her; the two shared a laugh, and Tony huffed.

"Share the joke," he called to them.

"You wouldn't get it," Steve replied. The two soldiers turned as one and made for the glass doors of the facility.

The sudden appearance of hazmat suits made all of them fall silent. The faceless SHIELD agents exited the back of the truck. Only one of them had the actual package, a small, rectangular cardboard box. Yellow and red stickers covered the surface; even from this distance, the light gleamed off of the bright colors.

"This is sure a lot of spectacle," Bruce said.

"I am not wearing one of those things," Lynn said. Tony rounded on her.

"You wear what I pay you to wear."

"Only when I work directly with it," she said. They stared at each other; Tony finally nodded in concession.

"Masks, gloves, and proper damn shoes all other times. Got it?" She nodded. "JARVIS will monitor." Now she looked annoyed. "Deal with it."

Agent Maria Hill approached them from the facility, her face impassive. Tony greeted her with a bright, charming smile; Bruce and Lynn merely watched her join their small conversation.

A gentle tap on Lynn's shoulder turned her around to find Clint cocking his head at her.

"Did anyone  _not_  come?" she asked as she hugged him. Maria spoke before Clint could reply.

"The strain is secured inside the facility. We'll monitor the facility for twenty-four hours a day."

"What is this about?" Lynn asked. Bruce seemed on the verge of either a breakdown or a tantrum.

"That's a great question," he said, glaring at Tony.

"Well," Tony began. Agent Hill shook her head and looked from Lynn to Bruce and back.

"There've been terrorist threats to use this thing as a bioweapon."

"Is that a joke?" Lynn's eyes were wide. "They can't mean that. This thing kills  _everyone_."

"That doesn't matter to a lot of people," Clint said. "Lynn, walk with me."

They pulled away from the group, Tony and Agent Hill bravely trying to convince Bruce that 24/7 monitoring was not a threat to him, and began a lazy circle. The massive truck in the center provided a convenient central point to focus their path around.

"The threats are pretty serious," Clint said before she could ask. "Fury didn't want to transport it without us. Safety first."

He was watching her, and she was keeping her eyes down, watching her own feet as she walked. She felt goose pimples ripple across her arms under Clint's intensity. She knew what he wanted.

"I told him to stay away for a while," she said quietly. "I guess it's good timing."

Clint visibly relaxed at the news, and she laughed to herself. It made sense to worry, but still, it was funny how blatant the man could be.

"How are you at poker?" she asked.

"Terrible," he said. "I see better from a distance."

"You relax better, too," she said. As they drew further away from the SHIELD crowd, Clint's stride became less braced. "Where's Natasha?"

"Mission," he said. Lynn nodded.

"Twenty-four hour surveillance?"

"I'm rotation four," Clint said. "It's not a set time. I sleep in between."

"And Bruce is here," Lynn said. "Are they really that scared?"

"Fury wanted the Hulk here," Clint said, "but Tony wanted Bruce."

"Comforting," she murmured, and it was. Then, louder, "he really did want babysitters for me."

"He worries," Clint said. He looked her over again. "You've lost weight."

"I'm fine."

"Sleeping ok?"

"I'm  _fine_." She huffed angrily. Clint grinned and winked at her.

"Sure you are. One more question." He pulled a lock of bright red hair toward himself. "What's with the hair?"

* * *

Without the ever-present threat of an Asgardian prince stopping in, Lynn found that her level of cleanliness declined until every surface was covered in school and research papers. She managed to keep the floor clean enough, though vacuuming was a chore she hated and put off until the dust balls were too large to ignore.

For this reason, she declined the various offers to come over to her place for dinner that night, instead opting to take Tony up on his original offer and splurge on a fancy dinner. She chose the Cheesecake Factory for both the variety of meals and the size of the portions, mindful of the presence of both Steve and Sif in their dinner party.

They made quite a scene when they entered. Sif was dressed in her normal garb of Asgardian kit; Steve looked like a callback from the fifties, his hair slicked back and a leather bomber jacket covering his torso. Bruce, as ever, looked unassuming, though his face was more recognizable to the general public due to the events in New York. Clint looked strange without his bow, though he kept the black standard outfit. And Tony, of course, was Tony.

Lynn had put on a simple sun dress to match her mood. She felt airy and light, surrounded by company who could both entertain and safeguard her. When she had more than one drink in her, she decided to broach the topic which had troubled her since earlier that afternoon.

"You should have talked this out with Bruce," she said to Tony. The glass full of amber beer in her hand pointed at Tony as she motioned toward him. "It's not fair to force him into this."

The inventor took a long, deliberate bite of his steak as he looked at her. Her pupils were dilated just enough to convince him that now was not the time to argue.

"I'm right here," Bruce said. Tony stabbed his fork into his steak and let it go, the handle wiggling precariously in the air. He turned and set an elbow on the table, giving Bruce his sudden full attention. The smaller man wilted under the focus.

"Bruce, I'd like you to work with Lynn on this," Tony said. Both Lynn and Bruce scowled at him.

"Please," he added.

"We'd feel safer if you were at the lab, Dr. Banner," Steve said from the other end of the table.

"Who are you speaking for, Captain?"

Bruce was annoyed; the use of Steve's title reminded him of his place at SHIELD, an organization which Bruce held little to no affection for. Lynn leaned back in her chair and sighed while Steve squared his jaw. Sif placed her hand on his shoulder, and the moment passed into something more similar to comfortable silence.

"That's settled," Tony said with a wink at her, and Lynn only shook her head.

* * *

"Yep."

_Is it strange that you get these kinds of calls on your phone?_

"That's not really my jive," he says.

_Like, right on there. It could be tapped._

"It's not tapped." The voice on the phone pauses. "Well?"

_Who would tap that?_

"I'd tap that," he says, and snickers. The voice ignores him and throws out a number. A nice, big, round number with lots of zeroes at the end. He has to admit, it's a good number.

"Not enough," is what he says. "Try again."

The voice protests.

"I have a stylish lifestyle to maintain. You gotta do better." The microwave behind him beeps; his Hot Pocket is done.

_High culture indeed._

"C'mon. Would one more zero really hurt?"

The voice is insistent.

_Wait him out_.

He does. It takes thirty full seconds before the voice concedes.

"Well, that sure is a lot."

_That gets every hooker in the city. Or Broad Bertha twice._

"I don't like her, she's a biter."

_Only when you tip her. Hehe. Tip._

"Yep," he says to the voice in the voice. Then he hears about the jet.

"I'm not taking a jet unless it's private," he says. It is, the voice assures him.

"Then I guess I got no problems," he says, and hangs up.

* * *

She didn't have to keep working. If she asked, Tony would raise her monthly stipend without a word, allowing her to live the life he thought she should. But she liked the peace of normalcy; she liked coming to a set place with a set shift, interacting with people, and leaving. And her boss, Kurt, was forgiving when she had to call out.

She saw how Tony's ordeal had left him skittering into isolation. Lynn didn't want that for herself, and so she needed to practice her social skills. She worked two nights a week at Beans and Leaves and enjoyed coming home smelling like coffee and tea. She enjoyed how Kurt made a point to ask her how she was feeling every shift, and she enjoyed that her coworkers now spoke with her instead of at her. After almost two years, most of the baristas were new, which meant none of them remembered the night she nearly fainted and had to go home. None of them asked her questions about her spell, and whether it could happen again. Kurt only asked if she was alright, and let himself be satisfied with any answer she gave him.

It felt like a life she wouldn't have had before.

Now, as she picked up mugs left by customers, Jane waved to her in greeting as she walked behind the counter to pick up her apron. Jane's shift started in about twenty minutes; she and Lynn overlapped for one hour, to avoid interruptions in coverage. There was no other barista tonight because the third called out sick.

"Con in town?" Jane asked as she looped the long apron strings around her waist once before tying them behind her back. Lynn felt a prickle along her spine.

"It's not my turn," she said. If Loki was here, he had ignored her request to stay away and was meeting her in a public venue to avoid a scene. She felt irritation rising behind her eyelids.

"You asked me to handle Tuxedo Mask the other night. It's only fair," Jane said with a sweet, teasing smile. Lynn sighed dramatically, her expected role, and groaned.

"Fine," she said. "If he's rude, you owe me."

Lynn set the glassware down and wiped her hands on her apron, dreading this encounter. If Loki provoked her, she decided, she would let him have it. Public place or not, she would not let him think he could do whatever he wanted with her emotional pleas. She took a deep breath, mentally braced herself for verbal gymnastics, and peered into the open cafe area to see what she was about to walk into.

It was not Loki.

Relief flooded her, and she sighed with the sudden dip in stress. Quirky Con-goers were easy to handle, so long as they stayed within social boundaries, and this guy didn't look like a hugger.

As she approached him, she had to admit that the outfit was, in a word, ridiculous. He was covered head to toe in his costume; he even had a mask with white dots where his eyes should be, surrounded by giant black circles, and the rest of him was a combination of red, black and weapons.

"Hey babe," he said as he set two very dirty-looking boots on the metal grated table. "What's on the menu?"

"Please don't call me that," Lynn said, and ignored the boots. She clicked her pen and raised her eyebrows. "It's a coffee and tea shop. Sound good?"

"Yeesh." He shook his head. "People still drink this crap? How dull."

"Some people find it relaxing."

"Whatever. Listen, babe -"

"Please don't call me that." She made her voice stronger, less hesitant. He groaned.

"Ugh. Feminism. Fine - doll?" She shook her head. "Darlin'?"

"How about 'Lynn?'" She pointed to her nametag. "It's worked for twenty three years now."

"Damn. Most girls, it's like shitting bricks to get'em to own up a number."

"Age is relative." She put a flat palm against the side of one crossed boot and pushed; both fell to the floor with a loud  _thump_. "Feet off the tables, too. It's unsanitary."

"That's a damn big word for 'gross.'"

"Take your pick," she said, and smiled her most professional Business Friendly Smile, reminding herself that she only had an hour left in her shift.

"So," she said after a long pause, "what'll it be?"

"The fruitiest drink ya got."

"How does peach clementine tea with a dash of lemon zest sound?"

"Unsanitary."

"Coming up." She set the ticket on his table and walked away. Behind her, she heard the light  _thock_  of boots hitting the table again.

"It's amazing how often you get the creeps," Jane said, shaking her head.

"It's because I humor them. Can you teach me how to stop doing that?"

Jane raised her hands and shook her head. "No! Then they'll flock to all of us." She peered over Lynn's shoulder. "What's he even supposed to be? A bleeding ninja?"

"Do you think the guns are real?" She added. Lynn shook her head.

"They've got stuff written on them."

"So?"

Lynn shrugged, thinking of Tony, Clint and Natasha. "No gun guy I know would write on the thing. My friend goes nuts cleaning when there's fingerprints."

"Must be all the murders," Jane said. Lynn paused and looked at her as though to check if she were joking; Jane was the first to break into laughter.

"What a face," she said. "Know many killers, Lynn?"

Lynn tried to laugh it off. She tried to smile and chuckle, to play like this was a funny joke that she could in no way relate to. In her head, she saw Kyle Brogan, age four.

"I'll make the tea," Jane said after a moment. She patted Lynn's shoulder, sensing that Lynn needed a moment to compose herself, and moved away.

* * *

"Well?"

Lynn watched him take a sip with an exaggerated grimace, more subdued than before. She had to admit that she was impressed he had bothered. It required rolling up the bottom of the mask to reveal some intricate scarring makeup underneath. She wondered why he would bother hiding that if he put in the effort to do it in the first place.

"This is the worst thing I've ever put in my mouth," he said.

_That's what she said._

"Except that," he added. She tilted her head and didn't ask.

_Is she nice?_

"I'm impressed you tried it," she said. She even looked amused. Then, without a word, she pressed her palm to the side of his boots and pushed them off the table. Again.

_Not so nice._

"Can't a guy relax?" He crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back, barely noticing the pressure of his sheaths digging into the small of his back. It wasn't like he'd bruise from it.

"Doesn't that hurt?" she asked, pointing her chin at the sheaths.

_Maybe nice._

"If I say yes, will ya pity me?"

Her eyes crinkled. He had reminded her of someone she knew with that comment.

_Hope it's someone she likes._

"Should I care?" he asked. The crinkles left. She blinked and started to look concerned. He knew that look. He  _hated_  that look.

"Like the outfit?" he asked, rolling the bottom of his mask back down. "Made it myself."

_Or Chinese orphans. Whatever._

"Who are you supposed to be?" The distraction worked. She was looking over his suit from head to toe.

_They always say clown first._

"A ninja?" she guessed. "From a game?"

_Whoa._

"I'm nothing like that tool."

_Who rides alone on a bus anyway?_

"Exactly," he said, and realized she thought he was talking to her. "Good guess," he added. Better for her to think that was what he meant.

She reached for the mug of the most disgusting drink ever made. "I'll get you something else, on the house." She sounded kind, patient, placating. She was worried he might be crazy.

_Maybe she's just worried about you._

"She seems nice," he said as she walked away with the drink.

_A damn shame if you think about it._

"Those zeroes were nicer."

_There sure were a lot of them._

"This is bad," he said, looking around the cafe. "Why did I even come here?"

_You are the master of subtlety_.

"The king," he said.

_You wanted to meet her._

"Why?"

_To see if the zeroes were enough._

"I can be a good guy." He waved to another customer, an older man who was watching him over the fold of a newspaper. "See anything ya like, sweetheart?"

The man ruffled the paper and hid behind the pages.

"Is that what the story needs?" he said. "A good guy? All noble-hearted?"

_No._

"Oh good," he said, and stood from the table. He reached into one of his many pockets, pulled out a pen with the ink leaking across the tip, and scrawled something on the single napkin she had left him. "That shit's boring."

He was gone by the time she returned to the table, a steaming hot cup of Nicaraguan brew in her hand. She tilted her head at the napkin with a creased brow, and read the message.

_I O U_

"God," Lynn murmured. "I  _always_  get the creeps."


	5. Vigor

"Fuck," he said as he stared down at the facility below. "This place is goddamn crawling."

_You should watch your language._

"But look at this shit! There's SHIELD bugs everywhere."

_The rating's not high enough._

"Well change it."

_It's not that easy. People get attached._

"And now there's a shift change." He pointed at a distant corner, where two agents were taking a moment to chat before one of them left. "Four hour blocks."

_Your legs should be tired._

"If there's one thing I'm good at, it's sitting on my ass." He absently rubbed one palm against his thigh; he wasn't about to admit that his leg had gone numb.

_I can see that, you know._

"You're the worst." He unfolded himself from the window where he'd been watching for the past six hours, grunting quietly when circulation resumed. "Four agents in four hour shifts. Something else is up."

_Be careful. If they see you, they'll shoot you in the face._

"I can't help they're jealous." He dropped down; gravel crunched when he landed.

_You should be quieter._

"I don't do quiet."

_She thought you were a ninja._

"So?"

_It's not impressive if you're not a ninja._

"Who says I want to impress her?"

_She had a nice ass._

"I don't have to impress anyone. I'm already amazing." He raised his arms high and hollered, walking toward the building. "Hey! Any guards around here?"

_What are you doing?_

"Making an impression." A bullet slammed square into the center of his chest, blowing out through his back and taking a heart valve with it. He gagged and clutched the entry wound. "Son of a  _bitch_."

_You did that to yourself._

He drew his swords and grinned. "Let's have some fun."

* * *

The phone blared into life and Steve fumbled at the dresser next to his head, momentarily thinking his alarm was going off. When he slapped the metal bell and the ringing continued, he opened his eyes and tried to remember what on Earth could possibly make that much racket that wasn't an alarm clock.

Cell phone. Right. Steve pushed himself up onto his elbows and grabbed the tiny contraption, swiping a finger across the bottom to answer the call. "Yeah?" he said hoarsely, more concerned with why he needed to get a call at two in the morning that having been woken up so early.

"Steve," Tony said from the other end of the line, "there's been a break-in."

"That was fast," Steve said as he sat up. He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "Not even two days."

"Well, Nick's plan worked. He'll be impossible to live with after this."

"What happened?" Steve stood and began to dress himself, juggling the phone awkwardly between his ear and shoulder while he slid his pants on.

"Cameras across the street caught everything. This guy took a bullet right to the chest - dead center! Didn't even faze him."

"Is he one of Xavier's?"

Tony laughed. "No. And I'll show you the hole that got chewed in my ass for suggesting it." Steve tugged a white shirt from his drawer and pulled it over his head, moving the phone away from his ear for a moment. Tony's voice continued drawling; when Steve picked the conversation back up, he was saying:

"-thinks that Natasha might know who this guy is, she's flying back now. Should be here in two hours - Sri Lanka, can you believe that time?"

"Too fast or too slow?" Steve asked, uncertain of which direction Tony was thinking.

"Way too slow. I'll have to fix the jet up for her."

"That'd be great," Steve said as he buttoned up his shirt. "Flying's a pain, if it can be shortened I'd sure appreciate that, Tony."

"God, you're so old. Get to Atlanta, I'm halfway there." Tony disconnected the call, and Steve dropped the phone into his jacket pocket before pulling the jacket over his shoulders. He glanced around his apartment, one last cursory check to make sure everything was in order, and left.

* * *

Steve knocked once, loudly, and waited for the voice to respond before trying the door. He found it open, and pushed through into the room with raised eyebrows. Sif smiled when she saw him.

"Just a moment longer, and I will be ready to depart."

"You leave your door open?" he asked. She straightened suddenly, her eyes flashing in challenge.

"I can handle myself."

"I know that," Steve said, and still looked concerned. The Asgardian warrior laughed and clapped his arm.

"You fret over the safety of a woman, despite knowing my own prowess in battle."

He rubbed his jaw, a crooked smile twisting his lips. "You got me there. I should know better."

"Aye," she said, "though I am not bothered that you worry."

"Only that I nag," he said. She tilted her head, confused at the term. "Ah - pester?"

"Ah, yes," she said, and laughed. Together they left the room provided to her by SHIELD during her stays. She locked the door behind herself, making a show of pressing the key into the lock, turning it, and flashing it to Steve before stowing the key away in her belt.

"Where have you been called to?" she asked him. She walked with her hands clenched, a forceful stride which echoed across the hallway.

"Remember the strain we dropped off two days ago?"

"At Stark's place of business?"

"Yes," he said. "There's been an incident. Someone tried to steal it."

She took three full steps before responding. He had to admit, he was impressed with her effort to delay her reply.

"You said this disease can manifest in any mortal, be they young or old? And it is always fatal?" Steve nodded. "Is it possible that Loki intends to repeat his attempt on Midgard?"

She didn't start with if he might have taken it - that, for Sif, was a foregone conclusion. Steve was almost sorry to disappoint her.

"It wasn't him," he said. Sif turned raised eyebrows to him. "Lynn asked him to leave her alone before the strain got here. According to her, he's been staying away."

"She simply has not seen him," she said. "That does not preclude his hand in this matter."

"We'll look into it." Steve sounded doubtful, but a suspect was a suspect. "Natasha might know this guy. That means an assassin, or maybe a mercenary. She'll be here soon to let us know."

* * *

When they arrived on the scene, Steve was surprised to find a SHIELD ambulance parked in the center of the lot, its lights illuminating the area with reds and blues. He waved to Bruce, who waved back with bright blue hands - he was wearing gloves. Tony was standing behind him glaring up at a large hole in the side of the building, which had been blasted into the concrete. He bent down as Steve and Sif walked within hearing range and snarled.

"Is that Twizzlers?"

Tony sounded annoyed and baffled. He reached down and picked up the packet with his bare hands, face scrunched in dismay. "He was eating  _Twizzlers_?"

"You shouldn't touch that," Bruce said, trying to pull the packet away from Tony's ungloved fingers. "It could have prints."

"We haven't found them anywhere else, pretty sure we won't find them here. Hey look, it's the muscle." Tony avoided Bruce and waved the packet at Sif. "Asgard needs these. I'll let Jane know."

"What is it?" she asked, while Steve asked, "what happened?"

"Four agents down," Bruce said with a nod toward the ambulance. "One of them was barely alive when we got here. He didn't make it."

"Four?" Steve looked to the side, where three body bags laid in a line. "Barton?"

"Not here. It wasn't his shift."

Steve looked over the rubble, which had blasted through to the main lobby, to inside the room, where both doors remained intact. Whoever had done this apparently hadn't entered further once they were inside.  _Why didn't he go in?_

"What do we know?" Steve asked. Tony tossed the Twizzlers to the ground and checked his watch.

"Two hours ago someone blew a hole in my building. When he got inside, JARVIS sounded the alarm, and that drove him away."

"He took the time to create this much havoc, and then left?" Sif shook her head. "That does not make sense. There is another aim at work."

"Ah - yes," Tony said, taking a moment to adjust to her language. "There  _was_. JARVIS was knocked out with that explosion, completely. Took the video feed and everything."

Steve crossed his arms. "He blew a hole, knocked out the security, and then left?"

"Doesn't seem likely, huh?" Tony picked up a chunk of rock, then tossed it to the side. "I'm moving the kid tomorrow."

"Where's the Ridley strain?"

"It was never here," Bruce said. Steve clenched his jaw.

"This was bait?"

"Yep," Tony said, and smiled so wide that Steve knew the man had lost an argument with Fury over this particular plan. "Lynn and Bruce have been working with a decoy for two whole days."

"Are you going to tell her?" Steve looked concerned. "That could go badly."

"You're right." Tony glanced at Bruce. "That's why we've nominated  _you_  to tell her."

Sif glanced at the curve of Steve's arm. "You cannot mean that," she said from behind her friend's back. Tony opened his mouth to speak and caught her eye; she leveled a dark, angry stare at the inventor, who blinked twice.

"Yes. Yes, it's a joke." Tony swatted Steve's chest gently with the back of his hand. "Haha!"

"I'll do it," Steve said wearily. Sif made a small noise behind him; he ignored the message there. "She probably won't yell at me."

"Cap -"

"Captain!" They all turned; an unknown SHIELD agent waved an electronic tablet at them. He approached the group and turned the tablet so that Steve could see; Sif peered over his shoulder at the curious device while Bruce and Tony looked from the sides.

"Security footage from the office across the road," the agent said. "We've got the explosion, and some movement. We're working on enhancing now."

"When should Agent Romanoff be here?" Steve asked.

"Ten minutes," the agent replied. They all watched the black and white video, where a shadowed figure walked, unencumbered, toward the building. The agents were already down when the explosion was set. The figure paused, then walked backwards ten steps. Exactly ten steps. It looked like he raised a fist. And then, the explosion went off. A bright white flash - rubble and debris spraying in all directions - and when the smoke cleared, the figure was gone.

"Why didn't he go further?" Steve asked. "The inner doors weren't breached."

"I think he knew it wasn't here," Bruce said. He pulled off his glasses and began to clean them with his sleeve. "I think someone told him."

"A leak?" Steve glanced at Sif, who raised her eyebrows. "Does Director Fury know this?"

"We're looking into it," the agent said. His voice was tight with restrained anger. The thought of a leak within the organization offended him.

"And we'll find it," a husky feminine voice assured from the side. Steve smiled at Natasha, who returned the expression and looked toward the building. "I hear I'm supposed to know something about this."

Tony plucked the tablet from the SHIELD agent and held it out to her. "Friend of yours?"

Natasha poked and prodded at the image, rewinding the video, expanding the view and enhancing with swift, easy strokes. She raised her eyebrows and tsked quietly.

"Oh, Wade," she said. "What are you up to now?"

* * *

"Open up!"

_Knocking is polite._

"Yeah, yeah." He pounded his fist against the door. "Happy?"

_I think you scared her._

"So what?"

_What if she has a fire escape? That always happens in the movies._

"Ah, dammit." He drew one of his guns, pointed at the door handle, and fired.

_King of subtle._

"I don't have time for subtle." He kicked at the door; it bounced off the wall and swung back toward him. "Should I say 'here's Johnny?'"

_Too obvious._

"Honey, I'm home!" He pitched his voice; the echoes reverberated around him.

_Not better._

"Don't be picky. C'mon babe, I  _know_  you're here. I checked." He pulled a rectangular scanner from a pocket, where a red dot blipped several feet away. "I even have gadgets for this shit."

_Should've been sneakier. Like a ninja. You're not impressing anyone._

"Shut up," he said, and put the scanner away. "I guess it's hide and seek. I'll count to ten. You don't want me to hit ten, babe."

He kept the gun out, because why not? "Hey, darlin', this'll go a lot faster if you just come out. Oh, and  _one_."

_Fire escape. Called it._

"There's not a fire escape.  _Two._ "

_You say that now. Just you wait._

"Three. Hey, isn't this kid in college? Where's the bong?" He kicked at the coffee table, which slammed against the wall. The files and papers scattered across the floor. "Four, five. This is boring.  _Ten._  Where _is_  she?"

_You haven't even finished checking all the rooms. This is why sweeps are smart._

"Ain't nobody got time for that. Hey, this has gotta be the bedroom. Where the magic happens." He kicked open the door. "Here's a catchphrase!"

"Get out."

He looked around for the source of the voice, and there she was in the corner, dressed in a loose tank top and flannel pajama pants. The closet door was at her back, thrown open. Several boxes were on the floor around her feet. She was pointing a gun at him.

"You should make that easier to find, darlin'."

"Get  _out._ " She had a semiautomatic. The barrel trembled.

_I think we have a virgin._

"Guns aren't toys, babe. You should leave'em to the professionals."

_Great movie. Portman grew up hot._

He stepped closer. Her hands were trembling badly; she might shoot him by accident if he made any sudden moves. Not that it mattered. It might even make this job easier, if she were already reeling from thinking she killed a guy.

"JARVIS, where are you?" she said.

"That the AI? What a snob. I didn't like his lip. He's taking a nap."

_That_ got a reaction. She glanced to the side, at her dresser.

"Stay back," she said when he took a step. The lack of conviction made him grin.

"Aw, babe, you look a little green. Somethin' bothering you?" He could reach out and take the gun now, but that wasn't his jam. He took another step closer.

"Stay back," she repeated, and for cripe's sake, were those honest to shit tears swimming in her eye holes?

_This is pathetic._

"No shit," he said. She blinked and looked uncertain. He took one more step, which pressed the barrel into his chest. "Your move Annie Oakley."

"What do you want?"

"I have a question."

"OK." The gun didn't move.

_That was easy. This chick is weird._

"Where's the Ridley strain at?"

She blinked. "What?"

"The thing you're working with. Look, I know it's not in the lab, so you better just tell me where it's at."

"But I…" She closed her mouth and her face darkened.

_Somebody's been lied to._

"Oh, great," he said angrily. "You didn't know? That's brilliant. That's  _fantastic_."

"Get out," she said, her voice rising. "Get out!"

_One for two isn't bad odds._

"Yep," he said, and reached into his pocket. She watched him move with round, wet eyes. When she saw the needle she pulled the trigger, and the bullet slammed straight into his sternum and ricocheted against three ribs before coming to rest in his spleen.

"Guh!" He staggered back, clutching his chest. "You got me!"

_Play it up._

"Oh my God," He said. He dropped to his knees, clawing at the air. "Medic!"

"JARVIS, call the police. JARVIS!" Her voice was shrill with panic and the beginnings of shock. Definitely a virgin. She didn't drop the gun when she ran from the room, though. Too bad. He'd have to be sneaky.

_Like a ninja?_

"Shut up." He stood, his insides sore, and peered around the side of the door frame. The girl was digging through a drawer in the kitchen, her breathing loud and ragged. Definitely shock. The front door was still swung open and she hadn't left. She didn't even see him leave the bedroom.

_Easy peasy. Say, what's on TV tonight?_

"I'll be back in time." He should whisper, but she wasn't paying any attention to the world. She'd got her sights set on one specific thing in that drawer, and she'd find it, by God.

_You could stand to focus like that._

She turned when he stepped into the kitchen. Her pupils were dilated, shocked to see him. She opened her mouth.

"How -"

He jabbed the end of the needle into her, the spot between her throat and shoulder. The plunger went down; she staggered away and grabbed at the syringe. She hit the counter and gasped for air, blinking to clear her newly-blurred vision.

"Night night, sweetheart." He waved the tips of his gloved fingers as she lost consciousness and fell to the floor.

* * *

"There's something I don't understand," Steve said later. They had taken over an office building in downtown Atlanta, the collective might of SHIELD and Stark's accounts driving the property owners to bend over backwards and allow them the facilities for whatever use they needed. At the moment, they were standing in a conference room, images from the attack earlier that night flashing on the screen behind them, along with images of the agents killed.

"What's that?" Tony asked, his nose buried in a file. "Agent Slader was trained in honest-to-God Kung Fu. Caprika was a sharpshooter, Drury a ten year veteran of the agency. How did this guy get the drop on  _all_  of them?"

"What is it, Steve?" Sif had her arms crossed and was looking at the images on the projector, her face hard.

"Tony," Steve said, "this disease is in Manhattan, right?"

"Yeah." The inventor glanced up at him. "It's spreading fast through Harlem."

"Do we know how many cases?"

"Unconfirmed numbers, but it's close to a hundred," Bruce said.

"So if someone wants to get their mitts on this thing, why go to all this trouble?" Tony, Bruce and Sif all looked at him. "It's in the streets, right? And the news is covering it like crazy."

"Right," Tony said slowly. "It's gift-wrapped. There's no need for shenanigans."

"Seems like the hard part isn't getting the disease," Steve said. "It's getting someone to work with it."

"They'd need someone who knew how," Bruce said, warming to the idea. "A scientist who -"

" _Goddammit._ " Tony reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his cell phone, bursting from his chair. "JARVIS, get Lynn on the line."

"I cannot, sir."

"What?" Tony shot a look at Steve.

"The force of the blast disabled my local mainframe, which includes Miss Creed's residence."

"She still has that god-awful landline," Tony said. "She insisted.  _Call it._ "

"Yes, sir." And the air filled with the gentle sound of a phone ringing, far away.

"Answer, kid." Tony tugged at the edges of his jacket, which dangled, unbuttoned, at his sides. " _Answer,_  kid."

The voicemail picked up. "This is Lynn Creed, please -"

Tony hung up. "JARVIS, keep calling until she answers." He looked at the rest of them. "I'm heading over."

"Don't bother," Natasha said as she entered the room. "She won't be there." She tapped on the computer which was casting the projections, and a bright red mask with black ovals appeared on the screen. "I know this guy. He's already made his move."

"Who is he?" Steve glared at the image above them, mocking their slow response.

"Wade Wilson. He goes by Deadpool." She caught Bruce's look. "I didn't make the name."

"You think he took Lynn?"

"I know he did," she said. "Clint went to her apartment as soon as he heard what happened. The door was kicked in; she was gone."

"But why  _her_?" Tony was grasping. "She's still a  _kid_ , no PhD -"

"She's got your backing." Bruce took off his glasses and groaned. "Your funding.  _That's_  how they found her."

"I'm sure of it," Natasha said gently. Tony looked like his eyes might pop from their sockets. "They found the project and who was assigned. They knew Bruce wouldn't be a good target."

"So they went after her." Tony sat down, his face drained. "Oh, kid. I'm sorry."

"If they took her because of her backing, we should hear from them soon," Steve said. He avoided looking at Tony to give the man a brief moment of privacy. "They can't expect to get money without giving us the address."

"Us?" Tony asked. He glanced at Steve, his mouth grim.

"Us," Steve said, and Sif nodded behind him.

* * *

"Prince Thor."

Thor looked up from a stack of correspondence, so engrossed in the reading that he had not noticed the approach of the guard.

"Yes?"

"Heimdall has requested your presence." And the guard left. There wasn't a citizen in Asgard who did not know the location of the golden guardian, and the prince was not to be escorted.

Thor pushed the pile away from himself, pleased to be done with matters of state when given the opportunity. He would buy the gatekeeper a drink as soon as possible in thanks.

He rode to the Observatory, less hurried for not knowing what Heimdall could want of him. The ride presented the opportunity to gaze out across his creation, stretching into the vast expanse of eternity. He smiled to see the planets placed close enough to admire, and remembered those further off which the citizens of Asgard and the rest of the Nine would never encounter.

He reined in his stallion and dismounted, patting the horse on the neck before approaching. "Heimdall!" he called in warm greeting. "I have come."

"Thor," Heimdall said as he left his post. He offered an arm to clasp Thor's, the two sharing a smile of greeting. "It is good to see you in Asgard again. Will you stay long?"

"My father would have me stay indefinitely, were it his choice." Thor dropped his arm and shook his head. "He does not approve of my dealings with Midgard."

"I have heard," the gatekeeper said. "It is clever, to introduce trade between the realms. He will have less reason to protest."

"Jane is always clever," Thor said fondly, and the two shared a conspiratorial laugh. The moment passed, and Thor crossed his arms, unable to waste time.

"Why have you called me here?"

"I must speak with your brother," the gatekeeper said. "There is news, and your presence will be needed when I deliver it."

"If you are in need of a restraining influence, I suggest my mother rather than myself."

"It is news you must hear as well," Heimdall said. Thor looked at him, and the gatekeeper nodded. "You will return to Midgard after you have heard."

"Jane is alright," the thunderer said quietly, "otherwise you would not need to speak with Loki as well. He would not care for the others - they are not his friends - so it must be…"

Heimdall nodded, and Thor looked away to the stars. A distant galaxy, purple in hue, resembled a storm cloud rising on a desert horizon.

"We go," he said. He mounted the stallion and turned, waiting for Heimdall to follow and hoping that the storm, with its raging madness, remained faraway and undefined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Realism note from the author: Knocking out JARVIS' mainframe is inspired by a real-life event I witnessed. I once worked in a company which leased their system from another company in a different state. The mainframe for the system was housed in the other state, and was once struck by lightning. The electrical force was so powerful that our lights flickered and our systems went down, four states away.


	6. On Edge

Lynn woke up groggy, her head pounding, and knew that she was not hungover. She raised a hand to her forehead and groaned, flinching at the bright lights she could tell hovered above her without opening her eyes.

"God, finally," said a hollow, echoing voice near her head. "Rise and shine, you won the lottery."

"I didn't play any numbers," she slurred. Her tongue was heavy and thick inside of her mouth; she needed water.

"Why not? Better chance of a jackpot than lightning." A rustling that sounded like some kind of wrapper being crinkled.

She opened her eyes and raised her head, finding herself prone on a canvas cot. Her neck was sore from a bad angle, and she pressed a palm to the side of her throat to massage the muscle. The lights were blinding; she squinted, counted to ten, and tried again to focus.

"Nice setup, right? They even have a cute little lab coat for ya. Go on, try it on."

The cot was pressed against a tight corner; the voice was coming from behind her head. She ignored it for now in favor of trying to understand what she was seeing in front of her. The room was bright white and clean; linoleum covered the floors, black Corian on the bench tops. It was a small facsimile of her lab in Tony's facility, and she didn't understand what she was seeing at all.

She turned her head to try and see something that made sense. Behind her, across a pane of glass, sat the man who had brought her here. He was perched on a stool, one leg braced against the ground while the other was crooked to rest his foot against the bottom rung. He was eating cookies straight from a sleeve; the wrapper crackled every time he pulled a new one out. She thought she should hear more noise, more crunching as he chewed, but the glass only allowed so much noise through.

Anger bloomed bright and hard, slamming through her brain and pushing her to her feet. She staggered a moment, dizzy from the drug, and battered a fist against the glass. The entire pane rumbled at the strike, wobbling and absorbing the blow. Not glass at all, but thick plastic. She could hear vents blowing air into the room behind her.

She opened her fist and pressed her palm flat against the divider, pushing herself back to stand in a straight line. She was too angry to be scared.

"Where's my gun?" she asked. She raised her voice to make sure he heard. He hadn't looked up at her display; when she asked, he reached behind his back and pulled out the pistol. A black semiautomatic, hand-crafted by Tony Stark, with  _Stark Industries_ emblazoned along the side. Natasha had taught her how to use it.

"Put it down," she said, and her voice was tight. "Don't touch it."

"Nah," he said, and slid it behind his back again. "It's a nice model. Original, right? I'm gonna keep it."

Lynn rested both palms on the plastic, breathing hard. "Look, I don't know what you want -"

"Zeroes," he said. He finished the sleeve and balled up the wrapper, then tossed it to the side. " _All_  the zeroes. I'm wallpaper, babe." He rolled the bottom of his mask down. "I know, right?" he said, to no one at all.

Lynn balled her fists and fought the urge to beat them against the barrier. She turned and looked at the room, a small lab complete with a small stool. She walked over and tugged at it gently; the stool lifted.

"What is she doing?" he asked. She carried it to the plastic, and while he watched and started to raise his hands to stop her, she turned the stool so that she was holding the legs and began swinging it at the clear barrier, over and over again until all that she could hear was the ringing of damaged plastic.

"Stop," he said, "stop!"

She ignored him; she was small, but she was stronger than she'd been a year ago. Natasha and Clint were strict.

"Bad idea," he called over the noise. A clatter of footsteps rose behind him. "Now you've done it."

A crowd of men entered the room to join him. Lynn couldn't see any of their faces; they were draped in bandanas and scarves. She felt surrounded by masks, and backed away from the barrier when she saw their rifles pointed at the plastic. She looked to the side, where she thought a door to her room might be, and waited for them to come in and try to stop her.

"Miss Creed," one of them said. He pulled his scarf low so that she could see his face; she was darker than him, his face the color of brown sand. He watched her with bright, curious eyes, and she could see that he was young. He held a file in both hands.

"Hello," she said.

"I am Afzal Bakaar," he said. "My father was killed by Tony Stark."

She couldn't help herself; she thought,  _that doesn't narrow it down._  She didn't say that, though. She didn't think it would help.

"I'm sorry," she said instead. The young man smiled, and beside him, her kidnapper jutted a finger at the wall in the background. She looked to see the red flag - two sabers surrounded by smaller circles. Rings.  _Ten Rings._

_Oh no,_  she thought.

"Look at their logo," he said. "Bitchin' rad."

"That's enough, Deadpool," Afzal said.

"But it  _is_ ," Deadpool said. He drew his swords and layered them against the logo, blocking the black sabers with his. "Beautiful work."

"Can you guess what we want from you?" Afzal asked her. He spoke with the halting cadence of a man translating from one language to another before he let the words free. She didn't look behind herself. She kept her eyes straight ahead, focused on him.

"I have some thoughts," she said.

"She's got some thoughts," Deadpool echoed. "Might be scrambled. What was that shit, anyway?"

"A mild tranquilizer," Afzal said, watching her. He addressed her as he spoke. "It will have worn off by now." He was saying it for her benefit. She stayed quiet; her hands clenched on the legs of the stool.

"I'd like to leave," she said.

"Perhaps," he replied. "First, you help us with the Ridley strain."

"I can't." She felt her chest constrict; Kyle Brogan, age four, was standing behind Afzal, pouting at her.

"Told ya she'd be stubborn," Deadpool said, strolling closer to the plastic. "Look, babe, you got no options here. If you say no, they'll press this button. You see this button? You know what it does? Tell'er what it does, Bakaar."

Afzal had not stopped watching her. "It will fill the room with carbon monoxide gas," he said.

"Carbon monoxide! That's much worse than dihydrogen monoxide, right? Signed a petition for that once. Do you know what carbon monoxide will do?"

Lynn was bitter. She hated him, and she hated them, and she hated this small little room with its tiny laboratory.

"Yes," she said, her voice high with anger. "It binds to hemoglobin better than oxygen. You suffocate because you're not getting oxygen out to your organs. Oxygen deprivation."

Afzal's eyes gleamed.

"Well," said Deadpool. "The more you know."

"I'm not afraid to die," she said to Afzal. His young face twisted into a smile; she saw his teeth. He opened the file and held up three pictures. Clint walking with her; the group at the restaurant, laughing together; Brent standing next to her on the stage.

"I will threaten whoever it takes, Miss Creed. This will go faster if we avoid the delay."

"That's repetitive," said Deadpool. "Isn't it? You should rehearse your speeches more. I don't think she's buying it."

"I can't work on it," Lynn said. "It doesn't grow. We have no model organism." She and Bruce had been working on that aspect - trying to find something, anything at all which would let the Ridley strain grow in a lab. Of course, they hadn't been working with the real strain at all, which meant all of that time and work was garbage. Bitterness made her vision slanted.

"I am aware," said Afzal. "As far as is known, it can only survive in a human host."

"I'm not working on a human," she whispered. Afzal was still smiling; he hadn't heard her through the plastic, but he knew what she said.

"What?" asked Deadpool. "Didn't catch that."

"I won't," she said to Kyle Brogan. His chest was open, his little lungs bloodied from rupture. "I refuse."

"Stubborn like a jackass," said Deadpool. "Might as well press the button."

"You need a human host to make our weapon," Afzal said. "We found one for you."

Behind him, three of the scarfed men pointed their rifles, aimed at her kidnapper's head, and fired three times into his back. One hit his shoulder; one hit the plastic barrier and snapped back; one hit his skull. Lynn dropped the stool and covered her face in reflex; blood and chunks of flesh covered the plastic barrier where he'd been standing moments ago. She stepped back and shook, fingers trembling.

"Oh my God," she said. She couldn't stop shaking. Afzal turned to the men behind him.

"Take him. Bind him tight - Miss Creed?"

"He's dead," she said. She watched them carry him away.

"He will heal."

Afzal stepped to the barrier where the blood was already congealing. He pressed a hand to the clear plastic, his palm leaving a hand-print against the glass. He looked at her hungrily, desperately. He was still smiling that feral smile.

"You will work with us," he said. "You will not resist."

"I won't," Lynn said. She found her voice through Kyle's pleading eyes. "I refuse."

Afzal spoke over her, through her. He hadn't heard a word she said.

"We will purge the world of Western thought. It is not strange that this started in America. It is not strange."

He looked at her, and she pressed herself back, back until she felt a bump behind her. She gripped the counter-top and stared at the face of conviction.

* * *

Heimdall stepped ahead once they entered the lower cells of Asgard, the guards parting before him like ripples in a stream. Because of their destination, they might have questioned Thor, or shot him puzzled, somewhat pitying looks as he walked. Heimdall's presence negated all of that. He could only be present for official state business, and the princes must both be involved because such was Heimdall's will.

They came to the cell at the base of a long flight of steps, simple and unassuming among the rest. Their mother had insisted Loki be given the corner cell to allow for some level of privacy. It was for the benefit of Asgard that he had a cell at all, for the family could not reveal the reality of his arrangement to the citizens. Only Thor's friends knew the truth of it.

The resident sat on the floor and ignored the approach of heavy footsteps - or appeared to. When Thor rounded into view, the corner of his mouth tilted upward into an expression which could rightfully be called a sneer.

"Son of Odin," Loki said. "How nice to see you."

"Loki, come now and speak," Thor said. He raised a fist and banged it twice against the barrier; golden hues spread from the strike, the magic temporarily interrupted before coalescing again.

"Am I not here?" the trickster said from the floor. His back was pressed to the wall, one knee raised to brace a book against it. "I seem to be present enough for conversation."

"I will not speak to your shadow," Thor said.

"I hear you well enough," the trickster said. "You speak loud enough for three."

"Come and speak to us," Heimdall said. Loki's head shot upward, and glazed eyes stared at the gatekeeper's presence as though it could only be a dream.

"Why have you come here?" he asked. "What could you want?"

"You made a request," Heimdall said. "I am honoring it."

Loki blinked slowly, once. The glaze faded; his form became surer, more solid. He stood and tossed the book to the side, his anger humming around his expression.

"A request," he murmured. "I remember. What say you now, mighty Heimdall? I did not ask for reports."

Heimdall addressed the both of them together, his tone steady and sure.

"A terrible malady spreads in Midgard - your lady is safe, Thor. Your iron friend moved her away."

"I know of it," Loki said. Thor glanced at him. "What? I assumed your dear precious Jane would tell you."

"And you know of Lynn Creed's role," Heimdall said. Loki drew himself up and narrowed his eyes.

"She informed me," he said tightly.

"Heimdall, be plain." Thor was struggling to understand this hesitancy. "Is Lynn Creed inflicted with this malady?"

To his side, Loki's hand jolted. He pressed a palm against the shimmering barrier; Heimdall shook his head, and the trickster drew away with a hiss.

"There is no easier way to bring bad tidings," Heimdall said. "Tidings are as they are, and it is we who assign their value."

"Spit it out!" Loki said.

"She has been taken," the gatekeeper said. Loki tilted his head while Thor watched him.

"It could not be Thanos," the trickster said quietly. "I have been careful."

"No - it is nothing to do with Thanos." Heimdall spoke in earnest then, and told them of what he had seen, and where she was trapped. He spoke of her abduction with little inflection, but paused when he began to speak of her captors. There was a darkness there, and he told them of it to ensure that they were informed.

"The damned  _scab_ ," Loki snarled when he finished. "Would that I could tear her from me." He turned to Thor, who saw the storm gathering behind his anger. "I will  _kill_  her, brother; I will  _roast_  her flesh -"

"Be silent," Thor said, and Loki fell still at his command. "She lives still; we will find her."

"That I may snap her neck between my fingers?" Thor met his gaze evenly. "What - you think I should care? I should  _care_ that this has occurred? I have no tether, Thor - she would not let me replace it -"

"We will find her," Thor repeated. Loki flung a hand to the wall; a gust of power burst against the barrier.

"The fool!" he cried. "The little witling! She will be dead before soon - she will be dead. We will find her  _corpse_ , and that is merry, for I would surely wring her throat -"

"Loki," Thor said. The trickster ignored him. Thor raised his voice. "Loki.  _Loki_. Look straight at me; do not look away."

Loki met his eyes, wild and unmoored.

"We will find her," the thunderer said. "We will find her."

Loki's face twisted in pain; he pulled his eyes to the side and snarled at the wall.

* * *

_Oh my god that hurt._

"Hrzm gh nert."

_That was terrible. No one can understand you._

"Fk thm."

_I think they got that._

"You're alive." A woman's voice. He opened his eyes and blinked; he was sat up, in a chair, hands and legs tied with cord. There were three around each hand, ten around each leg. Five across his chest. He strained to turn his forearms, palms facing up. He looked up at the clear Plexiglas, balled his fists, and raised two middle fingers at the empty room.

_I'm sure they're terrified. Say, do you feel that?_

"They brought food while you were out." He turned to look at her; she was sitting on the cot, legs crossed, an empty plastic bowl at her side. "You were out a long time. I ate all of it."

_Something's wrong._

"No shit," he said. The girl pushed herself off the cot and approached him. Her eyes were dilated as she leaned in close.

_Now is not the time._

"But she's right there," he said. She was almost touching his face through the holes in his mask.

_Seriously. Do you_ _**feel** _ _that?_

"I'm Lynn," she said. She drew her fingers away and straightened. "What's your name?"

"Deadpool."

She swayed. Her hand grabbed her face, tightened. Holding her thoughts together.

"Your name," she said.

_I don't think she sees you._

"Deadpool's fine."

She raised her hand to slap him.

_What_ _**is** _ _that?!_

"Geez, babe! Lay off the bullying!"

It wasn't that it would hurt. It was that he couldn't do anything back.

"Your name _._ "

She looked abandoned.

"Wade," he offered. "Wilson!" he added, when she reared back again.

"Wade Wilson." And she giggled.

_Something is very wrong._

"What did they give you, babe?" He was eying the bowl, suspicious of the contents. She shrugged.

"Do you know what they want, Wade?" She had stepped away again, back to the cot. She picked up the bowl; the plastic spoon rattled against the sides.

_To give you all the zeroes._

"I'm guessing not to pay me my hard-earned cash."

_Look around. There's something -_

Lynn looked at him over her shoulder. She didn't say anything; the answer was obvious.

"Fuckers," he said.

_Language._

"The Ridley strain can't grow outside a human host," she said. "Think about that."

_Oh._

He didn't have anything to say.

_That's bad._

"That  _is_  bad," he said. " _Really_  bad." He tugged at his arms and grunted. "Can ya help me out here, babe?"

_It feels like a funny bone, but all over._

She looked at the top right corner of the room.

_Eyes in the sky._

"When the moon hits your eye," he said. He tugged harder. "C'mon, doll, it'll only take a second."

"I won't do it," she said. He looked at her; she wasn't looking at him. She was staring up, up into the corner. Her nostrils were flared.

_Is she crazy?_

She turned and flung the bowl at the Plexiglas; the rattle echoed throughout the room.

"Yep," he said. "But she's all I've got. Hey. Hey! Lynn, right?"

She turned to him.

"A little help? Help, over here? Aquí, over here. Hey. Hey!"

She moved as though her limbs were weighed down. Like she was walking through tar.

_You're the sane one here._

"That is never a good thing. That's it, babe. Right. Now check for -"

He saw the bracelet on her wrist a moment before she touched him, and braced for impact. Her hand connected with his arm and the circuit was completed; the both of them yelled from a sudden shock, electricity popping through them and slamming down into the ground. She fell back to the ground and held her hand with a flinch. The crisp smell of burned hair stung the air.

_So that's what it was._

"My biscuits are burnin'," he croaked.

* * *

"I cannot return with you," Loki said. Thor continued gathering his supplies without a word.

"I cannot," the trickster said. Thor raised both eyebrows and looked at him, straightening a bracer.

"You will return to Midgard," he said.

"But not with you." Loki stepped away and began slowly pacing across Thor's quarters. Restrained violence hung in the air between them. Thor felt as though he could reach out and grasp a fistful, a keepsake to carry for later use.

"You will return to your friends and join the hunt," Loki said. "They would not trust me - nor I them, to be sure. It is better to remain separate."

"I go with you, brother," Thor said. "If you will not join the Avengers, then I shall join you."

"To what end?" Loki grasped at his own hands behind his back; Thor watched the gesture with concern.

"I cannot allow you to venture upon Midgard unattended, Loki," Thor said. "You are too close to violence, and that realm has suffered enough at your hands."

"I did not unleash that blight," the trickster said.

"They do not know that," Thor replied. "And the fault rests with your actions, if not your intentions."

"Your Avengers will see no difference." Loki stopped in his route and peered out the window; the golden glow of Asgard dimmed in the day's failing light. "And why should I ally with them?"

"They can help us find Lynn Creed faster," Thor said. He had finished with his bracers and gripped Mjolnir in one fist, prepared to call upon the remaining armor when needed. "And Heimdall's coordinates will mean something to Stark and Banner."

"I remember them," Loki said.

"Can you find her?"

Loki said nothing. His fingers twitched against his palm.

"Take us," Thor said, knowing full well that his brother could not. The directions were visceral and designed for a different kind of pathway than that carved by magic. Heimdall could not provide a direct location because something,  _something_ , was blocking some part of his sight.

"Very well," Loki said, and Thor nodded behind his back. The conclusion was foregone.

"We go."


	7. Construct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: in which Lynn shows that she has learned a few tricks.

Tony stood in the center of Lynn's fully furnished apartment and crossed his arms. SHIELD agents were inspecting every possible nook and cranny of the rooms, searching for some traceable evidence to follow up on. Tony moved out of their way for the kitchen. The window sill was clean and inhabited - a small betta fish drifted lazily in his bowl. When Tony moved closer, the fish floated upward expectantly. Tony picked up the food container, sitting on the sill just a few inches away from the bowl, and uncapped it.

"Bloodworms? Ugh, kid." Tony pinched a few in his fingers. "Hey, Maxwell," he said. He dropped several flecks into the water.

"Maxwell?"

Barton walked up behind him and looked at the fish; his face was grim.

"For the singer, I think. Or maybe just because she liked the name. She's a little weird."

"Fits right in," Barton said. "What do you think of all this?"

"I think I'm an idiot for hooking JARVIS up to one mainframe," Tony said. "I should have seen this coming."

"This isn't on you," Clint said. Tony turned and caught the man's hard stare.

"Who are we blaming?" he asked. "I could use a good scapegoat."

"This was Fury's plan." Clint crossed his arms. "You argued with him about it."

"Fat lot of good that did." Tony capped the fish food and set it back on the window sill. "Next time I'll start with  _hell_ and end with  _no_  and get there with a lot of angry profanity in the middle."

"He might listen," Clint said. He was certain that Nick Fury would listen carefully to anything Tony had to say, then disregard it all in favor of his own goals.

"No he won't," Tony said angrily. "Maybe he'll listen - he'll listen  _real hard_. And then he'll ignore everything I say."

Clint nodded. Behind them, an agent tapped his shoulder. Clint turned and took the offered tablet. He read over the information, nodded, and handed it back.

"The blood isn't hers," he said to Tony. The inventor let out a short breath.

"Then it's his. That doesn't do us any good."

"We know she's not hurt," Clint said.

"She wasn't hurt then." Tony rubbed his chest, an absent-minded gesture. "She might be hurt now."

_She might._ Clint didn't agree because he didn't need to - Tony knew how quickly captivity could turn painful. He turned to watch the goings-on in the apartment, supervising. The landline began to ring. Both of them turned to stare at the corded phone, practically an antique, and several of the agents rushed out of the bedroom to join them.

"We've got the line tapped," Clint said. "We can trace whoever it is." He motioned to the phone with his elbow; Tony moved forward and picked it up just before the answering machine.

"Who is this?" he demanded. His knuckles were white from a tight grip; he blinked and creased his brow. "I'm Tony Stark." A pause. "Yes,  _that_  Tony. No, she won't make it to practice tonight."

Clint raised both eyebrows and mouthed,  _practice?_  Tony shrugged, still listening.

"I'll tell her," he said. He hung up and tugged at his jacket to straighten the sides. "It wasn't them."

"Practice?" Clint asked.

"For a band." Tony was fiddling with his fingers now, nervous tension manifesting in a variety of gestures. He poked at the answering machine, tinkering with the keys. "Apparently, Lynn is in a band."

"A band on a stage?" Clint asked. He was doubtful.

"That's the kind. Have you heard of Brent?"

"No."

"That's who that was," Tony said. "I think I'll pay him a visit." He raised his voice, looking at the agents. "Get me an address." At Clint's skeptical glance, he shrugged. "Maybe he saw something strange."

"Or maybe you want to interrogate him," Clint said.

"You're coming?"

"Of course."

They shared a brief, cynical smile. Outside, a sudden clap of thunder preceded a swirling vortex of wind and lightning; the agents all shot to their feet or ran from the rooms without windows to stare outside. Tony tugged at his jacket and nodded at the door.

"We have company," he said, and left the apartment. Clint followed. Together, the two men descended the stairs rather than use the elevator, both preferring the relative openness of the stairwell versus the confined space of the metal compartment.

The stairwell also opened directly to the outside. Tony shoved open the heavy metal door at the bottom of the steps and walked out into the open; Clint moved more slowly, his eyes roving the skyline before walking into potentially hostile territory.

"Well," said Tony, "look who's here."

Clint nodded once to Thor in greeting, but didn't look away from the man at his side. The trickster smiled wide and looked to be on the verge of laughter.

"Hello, dear friends," Loki said. "I have missed you."

* * *

Steve sat with his legs crossed on the mat of the training room, his white shirt coated with sweat. He was breathing hard, out through his mouth, in through his nose to keep pace with his heart. Both of his hands rested against his knees, and he kept his eyes closed. Over a short time, his breathing evened out and quieted until he could only hear the rhythmic thumping inside of his chest.

The training room door opened. Sif's footsteps carried her closer. He smelled food - some kind of meat - and opened his eyes when a cold, wet surface touched his forehead.

"Water," she offered. He took the bottle and sipped until she looked satisfied. He wasn't the only one who pestered.

"What's this?" he asked, taking the offered wrap. He pulled gently at the pita bread to find grilled chicken, lettuce and tomatoes.

"Director Fury told me that you hadn't eaten since you'd been here," Sif said, seating herself next to him. For the time being, she was in Earth-style exercise clothing: a pair of loose, long yoga pants and shirt. Both were black, which made her bright hazel eyes stand out clearly against her pale skin.

Steve took another sip of water and began eating. Sif looked off at the far wall, where several faux weapons hung. They ate together, and when they finished she set her hands on her own knees, mirroring his posture.

"Steve," she began, and he tensed.

"You're about to tell me something I won't like," he said. She nodded.

"Thor has come to Midgard. Heimdall told him of your troubles, and the search for Lynn Creed. He wishes to join."

Steve waited. Sif took the moment to gather herself before continuing.

"He has brought Loki with him."

Steve looked down at his hands. "I figured he would." He tugged at the corner of his pant's bottom seam. "What about Fandral and Hogun? Volstagg?"

"The Warriors Three have been called away to Vanaheim. There is unrest there." She sipped from the same water bottle. "Heimdall has provided some type of coordinates, which Loki is giving to Bruce and Tony now."

"That's good," Steve said. He felt exhausted, and he did not want to talk. Sif watched him for a while, then reached out and laid her palm over his hand. He looked from her hand to her face, and she smiled faintly at him before giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

"I'll get back to it," he said. "Soon."

"Of course," she said.

* * *

She'd had a headache for the first few hours, and in that time their captors provided another bowl full of steaming hot soup. She'd left it alone, refusing to touch any more of their meals for fear of just what they were giving her. The soup sat untouched on the floor, the grease congealed across the top. The headache wore on, the pounding decreasing in a slow tempo rather than a rapid descent. She rubbed her forehead every now and then, and otherwise ignored it.

Lynn looked through the drawers and shelves of her prison, impressed that she had been provided with so much despite a clear desire to resist. Sodium hydroxide and hydrochloric acid sat in plastic bottles underneath the counters; inside of a metal cabinet, formaldehyde, phenol chloroform and various other toxic organic compounds were housed. The glass bottles holding the chemicals were the only glass she could find; every other supply was plastic.

"Yer makin' me dizzy, babe," Wade said from several feet away. "Sit down for a minute, wouldja?"

"I thought you'd be in more of a hurry. And don't call me that," she said. She climbed onto the countertop and pushed up from her knees to reach the high shelves. She stopped for a moment to look at him. "Or do you not care? I could stop worrying so much if you're volunteering."

"Been volunteered before, babe," he said. His arms continuously twisted and jerked, attempting to loosen the cords. "Didn't work out so hot."

"Don't call me that." She was standing by now, and inspected the various plastic pipettes for something useful. "Are you only good with guns?"

"I have swords, too," he grumbled.

"Is that it?"

"A winning personality."

Her lips thinned.

"I don't think she likes my jokes," he said.

"I don't," she said in direct reply. "Now is not the time."

"I'm focusing," he said. "See? Look at me focus." He pulled at his arms and grunted with the effort. She climbed down from the counter and sighed.

"No knives," she said absently. "No glass I can use. There's acid…"

"No," he said firmly. Lynn looked at him. Despite the mask, she could  _see_  worry in the lines of his face.

"You'll heal," she said.

"She's crazy," he said to no one. "I gotta get outta here."

"You and me both," she said. She was kneeling on the bare ground, rummaging through the lower shelves. "So that's it? You heal really fast? No super strength, no laser eyes?"

He scowled at the cabinet door she was sitting behind. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"We don't have to like each other," she said. "We just have to get out."

He wriggled his wrist and tugged. The chair underneath him creaked in protest; he smiled. "Right."

"I need better friends," she muttered.

"Probably true," he said. The arm of the chair was cracking under his constant movement; he continued twisting, twisting until he heard a quiet  _pop_.

"It wasn't my shoulder," he said.

"What wasn't?" Lynn leaned back and closed the cabinet, wiping a hand over her face in frustration.

"That'll work?" he asked. She looked over at him and tilted her head. He spoke to no one, a lot - she had chosen to respond as though he were talking to her, but right now she didn't know  _how_ to respond.

"What, Wade?" She stood; he watched her.

"I dunno," he said, "she seems nice."

She saw his arm twitch at an angle just outside of what the bindings should allow, and grabbed a bottle of sodium hydroxide in the same moment he surged from the chair. She tried jolting to her feet, to put the counter between herself and him, but she was too slow; he crashed into her and they went down together.

She scrabbled at the bottle she'd grabbed, trying to uncap it to throw into his face; he slammed an elbow into her wrist and she dropped the bottle with a cry. He slapped it away, then shoved her head backwards against the ground. She saw stars and fell still.

"Whistle while you work," he sang. He began whistling as he dragged her to her feet and walked her over to the chair, which was now lacking both arms and two front legs. She saw the destination and swung a fist around, clocking him in the ear.

"Ow!" he cried, and dropped her. "You hit me in the  _ear_!" She crawled; he gripped the side of his head with one wide palm. "Why the  _ear?_ " he demanded.

"It hurts," she said. She stood up and braced herself to lose. He was bigger and stronger, with more training. She shook her injured wrist and waited. A sudden clatter of footsteps drew her eyes to the plastic barrier, where armed guards were gathering; in another moment, a thick arm wrapped around her throat from behind and began to choke her.

"The brigade is here," he said as the men stood on the other side of the Plexiglas. "Think they can save ya?"

Lynn kicked at his legs with her bare heels. She hit what felt like a knee and he grunted; she hit it again and he shifted her weight.

"Feisty," he said. "I need a hose here."

Afzal entered the room on the opposite side of the barrier. His face was a mask of apathetic interest, barely registering a conflict. His bright eyes alighted on Lynn, who was gripping the arm around her throat and clawing at the fabric covering it.

"Hey, it's that guy," Wade said.

"What do you want?" Afzal asked through the glass, tilting his head. Wade rolled his eyes.

"He wants to know what I want. What a mystery. Two guesses."

"We cannot let you free," Afzal said. His glittering eyes crinkled with a smile.

"Then I kill your little scientist here. Done.  _Finito._  No more experiments!"

Afzal walked closer to the barrier and flicked a small plastic cover from a smaller blue button. Lynn felt the arm around her throat tighten.

"He's going to press the button," Wade said. "Don't you press that button."

"There are others," Afzal said calmly. He was still smiling. "We will kill you both;  _you_  will live, and we will find someone else to do our work." His eyes drifted to the side, where the broken chair sat on display.

"Nothing may enter or leave that room without my will," he said. "You are as trapped as you were in that chair."

"Do we have a plan B?" Wade asked. Lynn felt the arm loosen; she kicked and clawed at the same time, and he released her. She stumbled a step and grabbed her throat, gasping and glaring at Afzal.

"Was it your plan or his?" he asked. Lynn glanced over her shoulder and decided not to answer.

"I would rather not kill you, Miss Creed," he said. "You stand to benefit as well. Your name will become renowned for your work."

_For murder,_  she thought. She said nothing.

"The strain will be here tomorrow," Afzal said. "Try to get along until then."

The men left; Wade and Lynn watched until the last footsteps were gone. Lynn turned to him and stepped closer, vibrating with anger. When she was close enough, she slapped him as hard as she could.

"I might've deserved that," he said, and she slapped him again. He raised his hands when she prepared for a third.

"Hey, look, it was worth a shot," he said, rubbing his cheek.

"I know," she said. "Now we know."

And she slapped him a third time.

* * *

Loki stalked the laboratory like a wounded cat, his eyes flickering toward any slight movements he caught in the shadows. Bruce was at home; he'd stayed away when Tony and Thor both assured him that Loki's temper was under supervision. Tony had taken the high route of completely ignoring the trickster unless it was absolutely necessary to engage. Clint addressed him directly, making a point to meet Loki's eyes as often as possible.

"You know," he'd said in the first tense minutes of reunion, "with everything that's happened, you've done what you did to me  _twice_  now."

That had not helped Tony's blood pressure, and was right about the time the inventor decided that Bruce had better just stay home.

Now Tony was on video conference with the scientist, hashing out the coordinates Loki had supplied.

"It's nothing like the ones before," Tony was saying when Director Fury entered the room. "That included planetary location. We had to  _get_  there first. We already know where Earth is."

"So it's narrower," Bruce said. His eyes were looking to the side, at the screen on his own desktop. "We need to figure out what the starting point is and work from there."

"Where's Jane? Fury, get me Foster." Tony turned to Nick. "She's better at local systems."

"Use a video conference."

"We need to get these guys GPS," Tony said. "Except for the universe. UPS? No, that's taken."

"Loki of Asgard," Fury said to the trickster, "why are you not in chains?"

"Longing for olden times, Director?" Loki folded his hands behind his back; Thor watched him fingers twitch from behind and gripped Mjolnir's handle. "How you've longed to imprison me once more. I hope you realize how futile an endeavor that is."

"It has occurred to me," said Fury.

"Then by all means." Loki raised both arms, spreading them wide. "Arrest me."

"Enough, Loki," Thor said. Tony looked up at this statement and watched the trickster as he lowered his arms with a dramatic, fawning huff of air.

"Ah, the peacemaker - how I've missed you, brother."

"Isn't he a sassy pants," Tony drawled. "Get over here Kronos, you're pissing off the guests."

"Insufficient hospitality is a grave offense," Loki said as he approached the inventor. Despite himself, and despite Thor's presence, the movement still resembled the slow approach of a predator. "Tell me, Stark, how are you sleeping?"

"Like kittens," said Tony. He pulled up a full map of Earth on a side monitor, then spun the monitor to face Loki. "What do you see?"

"Land, and water," Loki said.

Tony hit a few buttons; the land and water changed and became alive, some images jumping forth while others sank back.

"And now?"

Loki stepped in close and examined the images. "Mountains," he said after several moments, "and valleys. Even within the water."

"Good job," said Tony, "gold star."

"The coordinates Heimdall gave us are specific not just to a spot, but to an elevation," Bruce said from the video feed. "We've narrowed it down to the elevation so far - that gives us a flat plane at twenty five hundred feet." Tony clicked a few buttons; the majority of the oceans and a portion of the lands vanished.

"You need to other two axes in order to localize your search," Loki said. Tony nodded.

"You see how much of Earth is at twenty five hundred feet?" He reached out and spun the virtual globe with his fingers. "Hello, haystack. Where's my needle?"

"Why can't you just find her?" Clint asked from behind. All of them turned to look at Clint, who watched them back. "Are you stalling?"

"No," Loki said. The word was short and crisp; Thor watched his fingers.

"Then what? You've got magic. Where is she?"

"I do not know," Loki said. Behind him, Thor drew Mjolnir and looked at Barton.

"Why are you here?" Barton asked. Fury had taken a place behind  _him_ , watching his agent's back with concern. "You expect us to believe you want to help?"

"He is invested in her welfare, Barton," Thor said. Tony and Bruce exchanged a look through the video feed; Bruce sliced a hand under his chin,  _keep out of it_. Tony turned back to the conversation in progress. Barton had crossed his arms and was speaking in a quiet, near-monotone voice.

"You had better just remember, Loki. None of that happened this time. But it  _could_."

An unspoken threat hung in the air, and Loki tilted his head back.

"You have no spinning disc, Agent Barton. Will you have me call your bluff?"

"Call it whatever you want," Clint said. "Just remember."

"Bringing him along was a great idea, Battlefield," Tony said to Thor. "Just dandy."

"I could not leave him," Thor said. The other men turned to regard him; Loki looked away last.

"See, brother?" he said. "See how well we get along."

* * *

_She has a plan. You should ask._

"Plans are for suckers." Wade was standing at the back corner of the room, prodding the wall with his fingers.

_How's that feel, champ?_

"What the fuck is with this room," he said. "There's no doors. There's no hinges. There's no  _cracks_."

_Where'd the soup come from?_

Lynn was several feet away, leaned against the countertop. She had found a felt pen and composition notebook in one drawer, and was busy making a list. "What?" she asked absently, paying him little heed. It drove him wild.

_And not in the good way._

"Pay attention to me. I've found something important. Crucial _._  You should give me a raise."

_She has no money. She doesn't even have shoes._

"She could get shoes," he muttered.

"Shoes," she repeated, and scrawled across the page.

_Hehe. Again._

"Pants," he said.

"Pants," she repeated. The pen moved.

"Hookers," he said. She looked up at him and waited.

"What?" he said. "A man's got needs."

"Duct tape," Lynn said, looking back down at the page. "Lots of duct tape."

"Duct tape is the best." Wade opened his hands and framed her between the thumb and index finger of both. "Duct tape, duct taaape."

_She's not laughing._

"Well I'm not going to sit here and stare at the wall," he said. "It's not  _my_  fault she's boring."

"What did you find?" she asked. She had put the pen down across the page of the notebook and was watching him with dulled eyes.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

_Not smart_.

"Oh come on," he said angrily. She raised her eyebrows; she still wasn't laughing. She thought he was talking to her.

_Let her._

"I wasn't talking to you," he said. Lynn pushed herself off of the counter and rolled her head from one side to the other, cracking her neck.

_She's pretty quiet._

"She's ignoring me," Wade said.

"No I'm not," she said. He scoffed. "I'm not. Here, look." She picked up the notebook and walked closer to him. She stopped when she was close enough for him to reach at arm's length, and offered the notebook. He took it and read the list.

"I have no idea what most of this shit is."

"It's supplies I need," she said. She sounded tired. "I can't do anything without them."

_The hell is an autoclave?_

"What's -"

"It's how I can make media. Liquid, to grow the strain on. And sterilize things." She didn't want to explain anything to him, so she kept the information brief. He stared at her.

"It's a giant pressure cooker," she offered.

_Sounds dangerous._

"You think they'll get you one?"

"They'll have to," Lynn said. "I can't work without it."

_Look. She really was listening._

At the bottom of the list she had written  _shoes_ and  _pants_.

"Huh," he said.

"Tell me what you can do," she said. He scowled through the mask; she ignored it. "I need to know."

_What a lie._

"No you don't."

"Wade," she said, and his name sounded like dried paper from her mouth. "It's important."

_She's been through this before._

"What?" He squinted at her. "You've done this before?"

She took the notebook back and turned away. "Not like this."

_That's a yes._

"I know it's a yes." He felt gratified. "You show me yours."

He thought she would keep hedging until he provoked her into an angry, lashing confession. She stayed quiet for a few seconds.

_Hypocrite._

"What -"

"It was a long time ago," she said. She was adding more items to her list. "For no good reason. I didn't learn anything."

_Except how to take it like a champ._

"No shit," he said. "I haven't seen you cry once."

"It never helps," she said.

_Does the air seem cold?_

"And it doesn't matter anyway," she continued. "It's like it never happened now."

"How's that work?"

"Let's just say I know a guy," Lynn said. She straightened and put the pen down. "I can't think of anything else."

_Something else is going on here._

"What's the list for?"

"I told you. Supplies." She pressed her finger against one item. "This antibody will take a while to ship. It comes from Australia. I  _need_  it to do any work." She was looking at him hard, her face firm. He understood in a moment.

_How long can she stall for?_

"I heal freaky fast.  _Super_  fast. Like a superhero, but better."

_Not enough_.

"And parts of me stick around."

_Maybe too much_.

She looked interested at that last part.

"Any parts?"

He grabbed his crotch. "All the parts you want, babe."

"Don't call me that," she said. She sounded excited. "Your blood too?"

"Don't go vampire sparkles on me."

"That could work," she was mumbling. "That could solve it."

_That sounds bad._

"I haven't volunteered," Wade said. He didn't like how his voice sounded. "And there's laws against that kind of thing."

"I don't think this guy cares about that," she said. He could see it now, as though it were written across her forehead, scrawled across her cheek in the same obnoxious red color as the highlights in her hair.

_I can use you_ , it said.  _You are useful._

"Yeah well, I care. In case that matters."

_It never does._

"I know that," he said angrily. Lynn raised her eyebrows.

"I care," she said quietly. She tapped the list. "Any supplies you need?"

_Chimichangas_.

"My soul mate," he mourned. Her sudden laugh surprised him.

_Holy shit. She can laugh?_

"Do that again," he said. Miracle of miracles, she actually smiled.

_It was that voice you used. So pathetic. Chicks dig that._

"You're lightening up," Wade said. He propped himself against a counter and folded his arms. One hand groped at a pocket - empty.

_Of course._

"It comes and goes," she said. "Don't get used to it."

_Wouldn't dream of it._

"Maybe I want to. Maybe I like good company," he said. He was starting to inspect more pockets, checking if they'd missed any.

"Where'd the soup come from?" he asked.

"I didn't see," she said. She looked to the corner, closest to the cot. "It just appeared."

_There's only one bed._

"Flip you for the cot," he said. "Heads you win, tails I lose."

"You can have it." Lynn pulled herself up onto a countertop and sat, her little legs swinging almost a foot above the floor. "I won't sleep much."

_You could wear her out._

He opened his mouth to say as much, then closed it when he heard the footsteps. Clonking, angry, heavy footsteps. They both turned to the clear barrier and watched Afzal Bakaar and his entourage file in.

"You have something to show me," Afzal said to Lynn. He looked honestly amused.

"I do," she said, and hopped down from the counter. She picked up the notebook - Wade saw her hands shaking before she grabbed it - and approached the barrier. She raised the list and pressed the page flat against the Plexiglas. Afzal scanned the words.

"And stop putting stuff in the food," Lynn said.

"Some of these will take a great amount of time, Miss Creed," Afzal said. Wade tensed behind her; he stayed propped against the counter. His fingers dug into his arms.

"They will," she said. "Some won't. You want me to work, you give me supplies."

"In the meantime, you will do what? Plot your escape?" The amusement was back. Wade dearly wanted to punch the man right in his smug face.

_Stay quiet._

"I want to punch him," he said. Lynn turned; the men all turned. Wade looked back.

_You said that out loud._

"Shit," he said. "We're best friends. Like brothers."

_Good save._

Lynn's expression disagreed. She turned back to Afzal, who was again looking at the damaged chair.

"I'll work," she said. "I have some ideas to test."

"What ideas?"

_He's smart._

"He doesn't trust her," Wade said. Lynn's shoulders twitched.

"Is it true that, that parts don't rot?" She didn't glance back, she didn't look at him in the reflection.

_Cool as a cucumber._

"That is true," Afzal said. His eyes moved past her to settle on Wade, whose fingers might just dig a hole through his costume.

"She doesn't trust me," he said, as though explaining. "Can't imagine why not."

_He's buying it._

"That's because it's not a lie," he said. Lynn dropped her arms and flipped the notebook around. She turned to an earlier page and pointed at a short statement written there.

"Blood agar. Heard of it? We can't get Ridley, whatever it is, to grow at all - it can only grow in human hosts. If his blood can, can hold up, I can put it in and, and grow the strain, maybe."

_She doesn't like that._

"Maybe she's nice," Wade said. Afzal ignored him; Lynn glanced back at him, once, and turned away.

"You will need to extract blood," Afzal said. She nodded.

_Is that possible?_

"Worth a shot," Wade said. Lynn jumped on the comment.

"He's alright with it. We just need, need a needle and tubing, and vials." She sounded miserable.

"Done," Afzal said. He turned and shot a set of commands to the men behind him; two left.

"You will have your needle in the morning," Afzal said. "Let me see the list again."

"One more thing," Lynn said as she raised the notebook and pressed it against the plastic. "I want my music."

* * *

She was very persuasive. Compared to her other requests, her music player seemed to be a cinch. She'd argued, and demanded, and finally said that if they were going to keep her here for months, the least they could do was make her comfortable.

"It helps me to think," she'd said. That was when Afzal gave in and issued orders in a language neither Lynn or Wade knew. He could've told his men a joke for all they knew. Lynn had taken the high road and thanked him, pretending he had clearly agreed. Now Wade was moving restlessly while she sat cross-legged on the cot, writing thoughts as they occurred to her.

"What the hell good is music, babe? Look, I love me a hot Latin beat same as the next guy, but why?"

Lynn smiled to herself. "They'll have to go get it. Someone told them about me. They'll go into my place."  _And then Tony can catch them._

A surge of homesickness.  _Don't think about Tony, or any of the rest of them._

"Should've asked for stationary. We could write a letter, address it to Stark Industries. 'Please help,' it'd say. The return address would be a great clue."

"I'll try that next time," she said. She was getting better at appreciating his mouth. At least it was better than silence.

"Could that blood thing really work?"

She looked up from her notebook and met his eyes - close to his eyes. Did he even have eyes?

"Maybe," she said. She didn't want to talk about it, think about it, consider it.  _Maybe_. What if it worked? What if she'd found the way? She looked back down at her notebook. Kyle Brogan was standing next to her. Her stomach rumbled. Out of habit, she looked at the congealed soup in longing.  _If only it weren't poisoned,_  she thought. She missed home.

"Damn right," Wade was saying. The conversation never ended, with him. He was doing a cartwheel in the center of the room, rolling around the counter and saying  _wheee!_  She'd liked him better after she ate the soup.

_Eat it next time,_  she decided.  _At least the time goes by faster._

"Eyes in the sky," Wade was saying. He was waving at the corner where she thought the camera might be; she didn't know for sure. It was shadowed and somewhat concealed. It was as good a place as any.

_Eyes in the sky,_  he'd said.  _Eyes in the sky._

"Heimdall!" Lynn jolted from the cot and looked up into the air around her, turning. She cupped her hands; she didn't know how this worked, she'd only seen Thor do it. "Heimdall! Can you see me? Help! Help!"

Wade was watching her. "Oh shit," he said, "she really is crazy."

She had tried not thinking of home; now the thoughts filled her up until her eyes watered. It was so close, so close if only Heimdall could hear her.

"Heimdall, please," she said to the air, and she started to cry.  _Dammit, dammit_. She dropped her hands and looked out through the barrier; nothing happened. She pressed her fists to her eyes and willed the tears away.

"Aw, c'mon babe, don't cry," Wade said. He sounded honest. "I'm not such bad company. I do tricks and everything."

"Heimdall," she said, "if you can hear me, if you can see me - send help. Help us."

She heard a small noise, a crackling, a tearing. She looked down toward the bowl of long-abandoned soup and found a new, fresh plate with a sandwich and chips. Wade stepped up beside her and nudged the plate with the toe of his boot; it moved, sandwich and all. It was real.

"What the hell," he said. "Where'd it come from?"

Lynn decided she didn't want to know the answer.

* * *

He had been given a quarters, grudgingly, when Thor requested it - less for his privacy and more for their relief. Loki knew well that Director Fury was not entirely convinced of his newfound cooperation, and felt that suspicious eye watching him even now, as he stood alone in the center of the room. Only the Avengers and Fury himself had been granted access to this room, and he was confined to wandering the corridors with an escort of Thor in tow.

He was pacing again. He had given up trying to stop the habit and instead embraced it. It was at least movement, and that impulse he could forgive. The door to his chambers opened with a loud click; Loki did not look, knowing who had entered.

"What a wretched creature, brother," he said as he passed, eyes on the ground in front of him. "This should not plague me so." When Thor made no calming reply, he halted and turned to face him.

Not Thor at all, but Sif, quietly watching him. The door was shut behind her. Loki smiled immediately and held open his arms.

"Come for a hug?"

"I have come to observe," she said. He dropped his arms with a flourishing sigh.

"Of course, Lady Sif. And what do you see?" She had always been the wisest of Thor's allies, ever unwilling to believe a word the trickster said.

"I am not sure that I believe you would never harm her, as Thor does."

He appreciated Sif for her frankness, and resented her warning. "I should not have come," he said. "It has only agitated me." He let his own warning drop casually - she would know well that Loki was most dangerous when agitated.

Sif ignored the bait and turned, walking to the side in a slow circle. He mirrored her; they circled together, cautious, wary.

"They are curious creatures, these mortals," she said at length. Loki laughed.

"Curious, and simple. You seem to have found a pet, Sif."

"Steve cares for his own," she said. "His loyalty is sure."

"They are noble heroes, all," he said, his voice dripping mockery. The good Captain was the only decent one of the lot, and Sif knew this well. Again, she ignored his bait. Watching, watching.

"What do you want?" he asked. He grew tired of her stares and wanted her to leave.

"Where is she?"

And this simple inquiry, this tiny question full of bitter betrayal and such certainty in his involvement, unleashed his restrained fury in a quivering onslaught of violence.

"I do not know," he cried, "I do not know!" His power lashed out; the room rocked as items smashed against the walls, the doors, the ceiling. Sif had drawn her weapon to defend herself and stood far back, braced for him to attack her. The trickster could no longer see her through his anger.

"Vile brute! I will kill him - I should not have trusted, should not have  _expected_ -"

"Expected what, Loki?" she asked, guiding his furor. His hatred had circled, circled until he was speaking more to himself than his audience.

"It is  _Stark_  who is to blame - he was to keep her safe, and  _concealed_ , how could he allow this - that machine, he relied too much on the machine, small bits of wiring and prayers offered, circuitry which cannot survive a meager blast of light -"

"I believe you," she said. Loki reared back from his pacing, halted himself and snarled at her. He did not believe her.

"Do not placate me, Lady Sif."

"Do I lie?" she asked. She waited for him to calm down enough that his fingers stopped twitching. He looked her over once, twice, and looked away.

"Can you not find her?" Sif kept her weapon drawn, her knuckles white with tension. She did not have to trust him to believe him.

"No," he said. He tilted his head back to look at the broken lights on the ceiling; outside in the corridor, the sound of footsteps approached. "Director Fury did not appreciate my display."

"It is lucky that I am here to explain, then," Sif said. Loki turned his eyes to her and narrowed them. There was no faith lost between the two; they could only believe in what they saw in each other at the moment, and he was not certain that he appreciated what she saw now.

"I am not Thor," he rasped. "I cannot be subdued by batting eyelashes and heaving bosoms."

"Even a wild raven will come to a feeder," she said. The door behind her clicked; Thor entered first. Behind him, Steve, garbed in practice clothing, pushed into the room. Agent Barton followed, his bow at the ready.

"Everything alright in here?" Steve asked, his intense gaze burning a tunnel through Loki's chest.

"Everything is fine, dear Captain," Loki said, and smiled. "The fair maiden is in no danger from me."

It was Sif's hand on his elbow which convinced Steve to turn away.

"He speaks the truth," she said to the both of them, and all of them heard the wonder in her voice.

"Good enough for me," said Clint. He did not put his bow away.


	8. Passage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I go into a bit of detail on drawing blood in this chapter. If that kind of thing makes you feel squicky, as it does me, then you might want to skim the second section.
> 
> Also, please leave a review if you are reading! It helps to inspire me to write sections.

A force, dark and ill-understood, pressed heavily against his eyelids until the trickster could do nothing more than press index fingers to temples and wait for the presence to leave. He had felt such shadows previously, in a life lived long ago - he could not name them then, and now he finds himself less capable. They were foreign and unwieldy. The vestiges of a heritage he had yet to embrace.

Still, despite his resistance, he felt cold.

He opened his eyes to look at his hands, turning them this way and that. He had frozen metal solid once, rupturing the structure as glass against stone, and knew he could call upon that ability once more should he need to. Of course, only he might survive the cold produced - any mortal would find their skin blackened, charred from the intensity. They would become worthless, their dead skin removed. He could peel that skin himself, if the mortal in question had irked him enough. He could strip flesh from bone with the barest effort, to reveal the healthy tissue beneath. And then he could burrow his hands into the livened flesh and burn it black.

A metal canister provided a convenient, built-in restraint. He wondered if Stark in his alloy suit would feel betrayed or affirmed. He hoped whatever emotions felt became the heady mixture of both which he had come to expect from Thor's Æsir companions. He did not want tears and pleading; he wanted anger. He could feel triumph, if the inventor looked at him in rage or betrayal.

"Loki of Asgard." Nick Fury's voice cracked over the intercom. The trickster tilted his head to acknowledge his summons. "We're sending Thor for you now."

It was always ceremony with dear Director Fury. He could not accept Loki's docility at face value, as well he should not. The trickster was hardly docile, merely conciliatory. He needed these mortals and their electronic tricks, though he took a moment to miss the cold efficiency of Barton alone. Surely if Agent Barton were head of this bulbous organization, they would have at least maintained the dignity of keeping their prisoner in chains.

The door behind him slid open to allow Thor entry, and Loki greeted his brother with a slight sniff of dignity.

"I am surprised that they resort to you as my leash, when the beast is the better choice."

Thor has an odd discontentment which drapes from his form as a sallow outer skin. He looks wary, distrustful. Loki perks up at the realization, and a friendly grin spreads across his face.

"Why brother, who have you brought to meet me?"

"We will all be present," Thor says. It is warning enough. The two Asgardians stand shoulder to shoulder as they walk, Loki following Thor's unspoken directions and subtly adjusting his tread. He is not as familiar with the building, and Thor was always better at outlining an enemy's borders. Loki was more concerned with slipping through them.

The repurposed conference room smelled tangy, the scent of awareness and gun oil. Loki stepped through the doors and found himself greeted with a symphony of suspicious glares and one set of curious, shielded eyes.

"Is this him?" Jane Foster asked as she approached him at a rapid pace. Thor's nod preceded her movement; Loki raised his hand in time to catch her wrist and stop the blow across his face, only to find that her second hand was already in play. He rubbed his jaw, holding her wrist safe in his palm, and he saw the moment she realized that if he chooses to tear her arms from her body, none of them could stop him in time.

He released her with a smile.

"Perhaps the smallest ones are always fiery," he said over his shoulder. "A pleasure to meet you, Jane Foster."

"I'm sure you can guess what that was for," she said. She turned her back on him and returned to the console where numeric figures blinked on the screen, the cursor blinking next to them. A torn, worried notebook sat on the desk in front of the keyboard, and it was this which she continued to abuse before touching the computer.

Thor set a hand on his shoulder; he shrugged it away.

"It has been four full days," Loki said to her back. Stark circled into view and leaned against the table next to her, arms crossed and facing him. Barton watched from the corner while Thor remained behind him, out of sight. "Is it possible that this has become a waste of time?"

Stark grimaced openly, and Loki realized that he was not the only one present who placed the blame at the inventor's feet.

"We've received contact," Director Fury's voice informed him. He sought out the screens to find the Director's face, scowling and suspicious. "They've listed their demands; we're working on tracing the message."

"What are they demanding?" Thor asked from behind him. He stepped forward until he was in line with Loki's vision; the trickster tilted his head.

"Nothing much," Tony said. "Just my happy funding for their crazy psycho terrorist plots."

"I can't follow this scrambling to save my life," Jane said. She tossed her pen down and sighed. "Bruce?"

"Nope," the scientist said from another monitor. "Is Loki there?"

"I am," the trickster said.

"Tony, show him the results."

The inventor slid a stack of papers from underneath Jane's notebook and approached him. Loki took the stack while meeting the man's eyes, and Tony shrugged.

"Part of the stack," he said, and continued walking in a lazy circle. Loki looked down at the numbers, his eyes taking a moment to translate the mortal scratchings, and let Stark have his silent culpability.

"You have determined an axis," the trickster said after several moments of scanning. "You have narrowed down a focal plane."

"Yeah, so now we have 'x' and 'y'. What we're missing is 'z'."

"You presume I will assist?"

Tony laughed quietly. "You will or you won't, but if you don't want to, go back to your hole."

"We could use a fresh set of eyes," Jane said. She was watching him, and glanced to Thor every few seconds. "Any new information can help."

Loki snapped the stack together and offered it to Stark, who ignored it. "I cannot find her without a tether."

"Why didn't she have one in the first place?" Tony asked. He had crossed his arms again, face twisted.

"She would not allow me to replace it," Loki said. Thor stepped forward, a silent barricade between the men. Tony ignored him.

"Since when did you care what she wanted?"

Loki said nothing. It was a valid question, and he acknowledged as much with silence.

"This isn't helping, Tony," Jane said.

"It makes me feel better." Tony rubbed a hand against the center of his chest, then waved it outward. "Call me Ishmael."

"Surely you do not blame yourself," Loki said. The lie flowed as easily as truth. "We are both to blame, I should think."

Tony suspected foul play in the words. He scoffed and turned away rather than engage, and Thor stepped closer to Jane and stroked her hair behind one shoulder. The sign of affection was habitual and lazy, and Jane's beaming face spoke volumes of how well she appreciated his casual touch.

Loki turned away to find Barton watching him rather than the display. "Trouble, Agent Barton?" he asked, in the mood to pick a fight.

"Not so far," the hawk replied. Loki turned back to the stack, opened to a random page, and began scanning once more for clues.

* * *

The hypodermic was present the next morning, as promised. Lynn woke to find it sitting on a tray resting atop a stout cooler. Plastic tubing, sterilizing pads and several clear vials were lined alongside the needle, and Deadpool -  _Wade_  - was crouched next to the cooler, poking at its sides.

She stepped closer to the entire offering and stared down at the sharp, uncovered point.

"Aren't they supposed to be capped?" Wade asked. "I don't want any nasty infections." He didn't actually sound concerned, and she doubted that regular infections were something he had to worry about.

"It doesn't matter," she said, and his grunt of assertion confirmed her theory. She had thought Afzal might send someone else to do this, had hoped that they wouldn't think she was capable. She'd never drawn blood; it was always provided.

Her hands were already shaking and she hadn't even touched the supplies yet.

"No plug," Wade was saying. "No generator. Guess it's plain ice."

The cooler was thick Styrofoam. Lynn spoke from far away. "It's dry ice - it'll keep for a while."

"The fuck's it for?"

"Storage." She glanced at the vials. "It'll keep the s-samples fresher."

He looked at her when she stuttered and saw her shaking hands. "Hey, babe - steady hands."

_I've never done this._  "I'll try."

"She'll try, she says," Wade said with a frustrated tone. "Yeah, I can tell." To her, he said, "How many of zero times have you done this?"

She licked her lips. "I'll try to be careful."

"Are you shitting me? Never?  _Never?_ "

"I'm not a med student," she said distantly. It mattered - it was a particular distinction. She could see it meant nothing to him in the way his shoulders shrugged.

She could also see the moment he realized why she'd done this. His head jerked a bit to the side, listening to the never-ending conversation in his head, and he picked up the hypodermic needle and turned it back and forth to examine all angles.

"Well," he said, "if there was a door…"

"It was worth a shot," Lynn said quietly. A lock pick was useless without a lock.

"I guess it's money shot time." Wade leaned against a counter and rolled up one sleeve. "Little miss never-touched-a-needle. This is going to suck."

He'd taken the needle with him. She stood mute, feeling stupid and hollow. He motioned to her, and she picked up the tray with all of its supplies and carried it to the counter. She set the tray to his left. Her hands were still shaking.

"C'mon, babe - appearances or something. Git'er done."

It only took a moment to figure out where the tube snapped inside, and how to connect it to the first vial. There were ten total; she felt sick, nauseous even. She didn't want to do this.

"Hey," said Wade, "I tell you how I got my crazy awesome powers?"

He picked up the rubber strip and tied it around his bicep, then slapped his arm above the elbow.

"What?" he said to no one. "They always do that in movies."

His veins were thick and raised, easy marks for someone else. Lynn stared and tried not to think about what she was about to do, what she was risking.  _What if it works,_ she thought. She could barely hear him above her own mental screaming.

She looked away from his arm and tore open the paper cupping a sterilizing pad. She wiped the largest vein she could find; the sharp smell of alcohol made her flinch.

"Anyway, crazy awesome powers of awesome. Wanna hear it?"

He talked while she slid the needle into place against his arm. Would she be able to puncture it? She couldn't have done this to Loki, or Thor. Probably not Bruce either, for different reasons. It could be deadly.

_What if it works?_

"Steady hands, babe. Listen."

He told her of experiments and doctors, cancer and a strange ward full of pain. She slid the needle into his vein on the first try and watched the red fluid flow into the vial. The first one was already half-full.

_What if it works?_

"Don't repeat what I said," he was saying. "People hate that. They might like other versions better."

She popped the first vial off and attached the second. Eight to go.

"Got any other big plans? I thought of brass and sass, but I don't think they'll care. That's me done. I'm all out."

Seven to go.

"I can't think of anything else," Lynn said. She couldn't think of anything except infinite medical possibilities, and those made her feel filthy.

Six to go. He was still talking; she tuned him out. Five, four. She could tell the sting was starting to annoy him. He was rubbing his forearm in rough circles.

"Almost done," she said.

"Sparkles vampire. Do you like that shit? It's pretty bad, but that one evil chick is hot."

Three, two.  _What if it works?_ One. She finished; she pulled off the vial, capped it, set them all on the tray. She pulled the hypodermic needle from his vein; the hole was already gone. There wasn't even blood. She still wiped the spot with a fresh sterilizing pad, for pretense.

"Piece of cake," he said, and she heard how nervous he felt. She pulled the tray from the counter and walked to the cooler; she opened the top and set the vials against the smoky chips of dry ice. She closed the top. And then she ran to the sink built-in to the end of the lab bench and retched until she saw stars in her eyes.


	9. Pace

Steve stood next to Natasha, watching her fingers fly over the keys of a computer, and clamped down tightly on his envy. He had been working with her for months now to improve his computer skills, something she assured him was worthwhile. He was young enough to pick up on how the computer functioned, and he'd learned quickly that taking his frustration out on a delicate mouse meant replacing it. He'd flown planes in the past; he could handle complicated machines. What made him uncomfortable was the nagging suspicion that this machine, unlike a plane, was smarter than him.

"What are we looking for?" he asked, wanting to feel as though the humans were in charge of this investigation. Natasha turned a brief smile to him and slapped the ENTER key; a series of files opened on the screen, each more complicated than the last, and Steve felt a headache brewing from looking at the glowing square.

"Purchases," she said. "Thefts. Stark hasn't replied to their demands yet. We're hoping there's some supplies they needed right away."

Steve skimmed the topmost file. "University surplus sales?"

"You'd be shocked what they sell at those. We're narrowing the search to cash-only."

"What kind of supplies?" Steve had no idea what went into a lab, much less what Lynn might need to do her work. Natasha offered him a list, which he skimmed. He didn't recognize half of the terms.

"JARVIS is running comparisons for us," she said. "It should be quick."

"What if there's no record of the sale?" Steve asked. Natasha shot him a brief, considering look. This had not been her idea.

"Got it," he said. His fingertips slid across the list, as though touching the words would make them more relatable. "What else are we doing?"

"You'll have to talk to Stark," she said. He felt her keen awareness of the monitoring present in the room and nodded. Now was not the time.

"Alright," he said. He set the list down and tapped her shoulder; she nodded at him and continued typing.

"Stark's in the conference with Jane," Natasha said over her shoulder. Steve left and headed in that direction.

* * *

"I didn't think you ate," Barton said as he stepped in close and set his cafeteria tray down. "Thought that was too pedestrian for you."

"It is not strictly necessary, although I have learned to enjoy some of Midgard's offerings," Loki said. The trickster, of course, had no such tray. He was instead eating an apple, a large bite taken from the side while the trickster poured over the notes gifted to him by Tony and Bruce, held up in one hand. Thor sat across from him, also eating - from a tray, Barton noted to himself. Thor didn't seem to care about how the peasants ate, so long as the food was edible.

"Ho, Barton," Thor said with a friendly smile. He was rolling a long string of spaghetti noodles around his fork; a bit of sauce clung to his beard, just below his mouth, and Barton knew the thunderer couldn't have cared less how he appeared.

In truth, the brothers were a study in opposites: where Loki exuded pathos and a certain amount of distance in all of his interactions, Thor barreled forward into every situation and came out swinging. Clint thought that the two of them must be awful to face in tandem, and said as much. Loki's mouth twisted into an amused smile, though he did not look up from his papers; Thor brimmed at the tangential praise.

"It is true," Thor said, "there is naught we cannot achieve when we band together."

"Truly, the world's delight," Loki drawled. As unsubtle reminders went, Clint could only snort at the comment.

"Found anything useful?" he asked, and took a bite of pre-made baked garlic bread. The trickster laid the papers flat against the table, turned them upside-down, and slid them across to rest in front of Clint's tray.

"You are welcome to look, Agent Barton," the trickster said. His voice wasn't quite a rasp, but his temper was seething. He was tired of being asked that question.

"No offense," Barton said. "Just curious."

Thor reached for the papers and held them in front of his face, scanning the calculations. Clint could see a small smear of spaghetti sauce and grease across the back of the papers from his fingers. Thor considered the numbered lines and creased his brow.

"My brother sees patterns where I cannot," Thor said. Loki reached for the papers with a stricken look.

"You are dirtying them, you great oaf." Loki wiped absently at the stains. "Your Jane sees patterns as well, more easily than most mortals I should say. She is nearly so useful as -"

"Don't say it," Clint said quietly. Both Asgardians looked at him, Thor in confusion and Loki with no emotion at all. "Just don't. It's still sore around here."

"I do wonder why Selvig continues to refuse to come," Loki said. "You would think he would want to ensure his surrogate daughter's safety."

" _Stop it_ ," Clint said, feeling dangerously close to lunging across the table. Thor had turned back to his food, apparently allowing his brother to fight his own battles now. "I am asking nicely."

"That was not a request, Agent Barton, but a command. Would you care to rephrase your statement?"

" _Please_  stop it, thank you kindly, or I will punch you in the mouth."

"Do you see, brother?" Loki said to Thor. "They can as yet be trained."

"That's enough, Loki," Thor said wearily. "I do not believe you help yourself by making enemies of these mortals."

"This mortal has a name," Clint said. Thor looked to him and nodded.

"Clint," Thor corrected. "You remember it was he who made an effort to reach out to you."

"Yes, misguided though it was. Your spider is quite safe, Agent Barton. I have no interest in promises any longer."

"That's not why I'm here," Clint said, and ate a healthy bite of spaghetti to savor the sudden silence at his statement. Thor seemed warily grateful; Loki only looked suspicious.

"Is that so?" he asked. "Then you must be part of the detail which Director Fury seems so convinced is unspoken. Isn't it just amazing, how anywhere I go a myriad of SHIELD agents is sure to follow."

"Sounds annoying," Clint said. Thor laughed; Loki blinked and tilted his head.

"You will not be baited, will you?" he asked. Clint took another bite of his food and smiled, serene with certainty. Thor's loud guffaw interrupted the other conversations surrounding them, and suddenly the air was filled with deep, baritone mirth. His laughter began with a sort of keening desperation, a release of pent-up tension which culminated into honest laughter after several seconds. Loki watched with annoyance, then some slight warmth, and finally, finally, a small smile.

"You will choke, brother," the trickster said. "Breathe, before I am blamed for your death."

Thor calmed himself, and held his fork out toward Clint. Clint raised his own and clinked the tines, relatively certain that whatever ailments he might have, Thor would be safe from them.

"Well done, Barton," Thor said with a bright, shining smile. "There are few who can resist rising to my brother's bait."

"It is not that he does not rise," Loki said with some consternation. "It is that he ignores his anger."

"Is that not the same?" Thor asked.

"It's not," Barton said. "It pisses him off  _way_  more than just not reacting at all."

"A sort of revenge, Barton? I had thought you better evolved." Loki spoke this last while once again perusing the documents, almost desperately casual. Clint didn't miss that the trickster left off the formal title, the part of his name which retained distance. When the archer let the moment come and go, Loki glanced at him over the top of the papers and raised both eyebrows, surprised.

Clint took another bite of his spaghetti and sipped his tea. He plucked the orange on his tray up in two fingers and rolled it across the table. Loki caught the fruit with one palm.

"A fruit you can skin," Clint said. "It helps."

Loki curled one nail against the orange peel and began stripping the fruit of its flesh, and Barton was certain he saw satisfaction in the action.

* * *

Lynn fought against the urge to pace until her thoughts built up to the point of distraction. When she returned to awareness she found herself circling the small room, Wade watching her from the cot. She realized quickly that the battle was already lost, and leaned herself against the bench top. Her leg began jittering moments later.

_God, she's driving me nuts. Tell her to stay the fuck still._

"Language," Wade said. Then, to Lynn: "I need a nickname. Something awesome. Captain Fantastico the Marvelous. You have to call me that now."

"I am not calling you that," she said.

_She doesn't sound angry._

"Progress," he said. "But you need to think of something."

"Why?" Lynn pushed away from the counter and started pacing again. The circles under her eyes gave her face a skeletal quality. She had lost weight already, eating only once a day and sharing the food with him. It had only been two days.

_You should be a gentleman and not make her share._

"I have needs," he said.

_She thinks you're talking to her._

"So do I," she said. "They don't include weird nicknames. Isn't 'Deadpool' weird enough?"

"Don't knock it. That name has history. It's important."

_And she doesn't use it anyway._

"Look," she said, "I'm done. Help me think of a way out of here."

_Do you think it's weird that they don't have mics in here?_

"Gift horse, mouth. Sure, babe. Point me where you want me and fire, I'll kill whoever you want."

"That's not helpful." Lynn was crouching, rummaging through one of the cabinets. She seemed distracted. "What can you survive?"

"Nothing you're thinking of," he said. He didn't like the look in her eyes.

"You don't know that," Lynn said. She was pulling out bottles, setting them on the counter. He didn't like the bright marks on the side, the reds and yellows which meant  _danger_. She pulled out a thick glass bottle of chloroform.

_Let's get dangerous._

"I am the wrong number that wakes you at three AM," he said. "Capes are rad."

"Wade, focus," Lynn said. "This is important. It's you we're protecting."

_I am the hair in the lens of your projector._

"She won't appreciate that." Wade stepped closer, eying the various chemicals as though they might leap at him and chew his face. "I know that one," he said, pointing at the chloroform. Lynn rolled her eyes.

"It's not like the movies."

"What, it won't knock me out that fast?"

_Immersion ruined_.

"No, it works fast," she said. "It causes other damage though."

_Which doesn't matter._

"She knows that," he said. His voice had that pitch again.

"I won't hurt you," she said. She pressed her palms against the edge of the counter and leaned, looking over what she had collected. "I won't do that."

"That will make your work more difficult," Afzal said from the side. Both turned; neither had seen him enter. He was alone, and moved quietly.

The change in Lynn's demeanor was dramatic; she was no longer nervous. She straightened her spine, and her expression hardened.

_I think she's angry._

She stalked to the barrier and crossed her arms. Afzal watched her with his hands folded behind his back.

"Let us out," Lynn said.

_Oh shit._

"And what will you do if we don't, Miss Creed?" Afzal asked. He looked like the cat that ate the cream.

"Nothing," she said. Both men looked at her, one in surprise, the other in consideration. "I'm replaceable; it's not worth a fight, is it? You'll kill me and find someone else."

_She wants him to kill her._

"What?" Wade said. "Why would she want that?"

_She has connections._

"Mr. Stark is not so fond of you as we thought," Afzal said. "He has not responded to our requests." He sounded disappointed.

"He never would have," she said. "You don't have a golden ticket here. He'll never pay."

"Stingy bastard," Wade said. Afzal flipped the cover; his finger touched the blue button. Lynn looked like she'd won something.

_She said she wouldn't hurt you._

"Yeah, she did," Wade said.

_Will the next one say the same thing?_

"Now wait a second," Wade said, his voice pitching again. "Wait a damn second. You can't kill her."

"No?" Afzal said. He licked his lips. He had small white teeth.

"No, goddammit," Wade said. Lynn hadn't turned to look at him. "We like her. She's nice. We'll keep her."

Afzal's finger hovered. "The Ridley strain has arrived. It is behind you, inside the cooler."

Wade could see Lynn's shoulders tense, but she still didn't turn around. Afzal smiled at her.

"There is also a cart. Anything you need sterilized, you set on the cart. We will take care of it for you."

"Media needs to be done fast," she said. "Otherwise it gets contaminated."

Afzal nodded. He was watching her alone - he had yet to give Wade more than a second glance.

_Rude._

"Fucking rude, dude," he said. "Eye contact: not just for creepy sociopaths."

_No respectable psychologist uses that word anymore._

"Good thing I don't care." Afzal still hadn't given him more than a cursory glance. Wade picked up the stool next to the bench and threw it at the barrier; it bounced back and clattered to the floor while Lynn skittered to the side to avoid being hurt. Wade raised his arms and shouted.

"Look at me now, bitch!"

"Wade," Lynn said. He flipped her off.

"Can it, babe. This is between me and rat-face." He sucked air through his front teeth - a tiny squeak of air.

_I bet he can't even hear that._

"He hears it alright." Wade raised his fingers in a gun and pointed his index finger at Lynn. "Listen up, dipshit. Little miss here gets my vote. You know what that means? It means I'll kill myself a geek if you get anyone else in here."

Lynn was rubbing her forehead; Afzal managed to crack a scowl. Wade grinned and winked, even though Afzal couldn't see at least one of those gestures.

"Got'im this time, didn't we? That's right, dumbass, welcome to hell."

_Where you're the boss and the railway bulls are blind._

"I call it Poolville," he said.

"Population two," Lynn said. He couldn't help it; he stared.

_Is this progress or scary?_

"Let'er play along." He approached the Plexiglass, and Afzal glared across the clear plastic at the both of them.

_He didn't anticipate a united front._

"Who would? We are the hollow men, our whimper sure sounds like a bang."

_That's not how it goes._

"He knows how it goes," Wade said. He clapped his hands together, then showed both of his open palms to the glass. "You see these? I killed a man with these hands. Did you dipshits do your  _research_? I never put my weapons down."

"Wade," Lynn said. "That's enough."

It wasn't enough - he was just getting started.

_You'll take it too far._

"Shit, wouldn't want them to do anything rash." He wished he felt drunk. "I miss beer."

"More than one meal a day," Lynn said.

"Decent pillows," Wade said.

"Blankets."

"Porn." Lynn made a face. "We've discussed my needs."

"I miss music," she said. "Your constant talking just isn't the same."

"You saying I can't sing?" He burst into  _Crazy_.

_Like an angel._

"Oh god, stop," Lynn said.

"Enough," said Afzal. " _Enough!_ "

"I'm the best radio," Wade said.

" _ENOUGH!_ "

"Uh oh, babe, I think we made him mad."

"I don't think so," Lynn said. She had crossed her arms again and resumed her earlier glare. She was enjoying this, and Afzal knew it.

_I think he's taking it personally._

"Whaddaya say, Affy?" Wade offered a pinkie to the barrier. "Swear on it, now."

Afzal had worked himself up to a panting fury. He snarled at them from across the barrier, and Lynn and Wade both laughed in his face.

"You have nothing," Lynn said, and she sounded as drunk as Wade wanted to feel. "You lose."

"Make my strain," Afzal said, "or all of your friends die."

And he left.

_She seems happy._

"Well that was a slap and a tickle," Wade said. "Why did we just get all your friends killed?"

"We didn't." Lynn was practically glowing. "He didn't threaten them until he had nothing left."

"What's that mean?"

Lynn had approached the cooler at the back of the room. She stared down at it.

_Is it a lady's head?_

"What's that mean, babe?"

She crouched, popped the sides, and lifted the lid. She froze when she saw the contents, and let the lid drop immediately. She covered her mouth and shook. Wade approached and reached for the lid; she grabbed his wrist to stop him. It was the first time she'd touched him since he attacked her the day before.

"What's that mean?" he asked again.

"It means Heimdall heard me," she said. She let his wrist go and stood, backed away, and grabbed the counter to steady herself. Wade opened the cooler.

Inside, a set of wet, festering lungs glistened in the fresh air.

* * *

"It's been over a week," Tony was saying when Steve entered. "When do we call it?"

"You were gone for months," Jane said. She was carrying a notebook in both hands, chewing at the end of her pen. Tony looked back at Steve and waved him over.

"This is getting us nowhere fast, Cap," Tony said. "We need another strategy."

"How would you have found you?" Steve asked.

"It would take time, which we have run out of. Do you think she's still alive?"

Steve didn't answer. Tony had history with these people, and he wasn't going to disrespect that by offering bad theories. It was Jane's silent pleading stare which forced him to overcome his reservations.

"I don't know," he said. "It's been seven days and we haven't seen another abduction. It was three days before we got any kind of demands. It seems like they're biding their time."

"Yeah, time is - son of a bitch," Tony said, and his fingers began flying across JARVIS' phantom keys. "Son of a  _bitch_. Bruce. Brucey boy! I need some quantum in my physics! JARVIS, get him on the line."

"What are you looking at?" Jane said. Tony grabbed her arm and pulled her closer; she made a small noise of surprise, and paused when she saw what he was doing.

"It's a vector," she muttered. "A  _state vector_. Why didn't I see it? Tony, no, change this value here -"

"What does that mean?" Steve asked. He knew Jane was probably lost to the calculations, but Tony was a talker.

"It means we can't find them because they're not  _here_ ," Tony said, his voice rushed in his excitement at solving a puzzle. "The z axis isn't space, it's  _time_ , that's why Heimdall couldn't pin it down."

"It's moving different from us," Jane said. She pressed her finger to the screen, and JARVIS opened the world map. "The location is set, but the time is sped up or slowed down -"

"That's possible?" Steve felt the information spinning uncontrollably around him, and sat down to keep his head still.

"A time pocket," Bruce's voice suddenly said from the screens. His face wasn't there; he sounded tired, recently woken from sleep. "Jane, can you replicate a pocket universe with this data?"

"Working on it."

"We need the grinch," Tony said to Steve. "Can you bring him? Once we have a target, he can mojo his way there. We'll be in and out before you can say 'God bless America.'"

"How long should it take?" Steve asked.

"Better jiffy it up, Cap. We're halfway home."


	10. Crept

Eight days of unhindered spread had done wonders for the commonality of the unknown infection. There were enough infected within Harlem to officially label the outbreak an epidemic, and the CDC in Atlanta convened its advisory board for suggestions on containment. The spread was unchecked and the mortality rate unbroken. Fear drove policies, and hospitals began screening patients for flu-like symptoms. Inner-city clinics turned clients away the moment coughs were heard, and pregnant women, children and the elderly were encouraged to remain secluded from large crowds.

Elementary and middle schools began closing in New York, biding their time to wait out the deadly disease. There were over two-hundred confirmed cases now, with no cure in sight.

The governor of New York declared a state of emergency which the President immediately approved, and the National Guard was mobilized to begin assisting with hospital negotiations. The less media-friendly commands were given only to the Guardsmen: unofficial quarantine was in effect until further notice, and would be implemented without full disclosure.

In another two days, with confirmed cases now reaching nearly one thousand, the Manhattan and Brooklyn bridges were closed. The island of Manhattan was on officially sanctioned quarantine until further notice.

The first confirmed case to appear in Philadelphia sent the media into a frenzy, and the public demanded action. An executive order was issued listing the Ridley Strain as part of the list of diseases for which federal quarantine was authorized, and the Eastern coastline was effectively shut down. The Eastern seaboard of the United States was grounded, from Maine to the tip of Florida, and ports of entry were closed to immigrants.

The total death toll stood at four hundred and thirty three.

The New York Times co-opted the name "Red Death" to ensure their lock on the terms used in history. The rest of the media cycle picked up the name, and by the eleventh day, outlets were saturated with images of the dying and deceased.

They spoke of an elderly grandmother whose family had succumbed within weeks of her own illness, and they spoke of Kyle Brogan, age four. The pictures of his autopsy leaked online. Photoshop competitions sprang up on less compassionate websites, inserting various items inside of the boy's exposed sternum.

The death toll stood at six hundred and two. A relative who had visited New York weeks before became the first declared case in Michigan, and the Great Lakes trade routes were shut down in response. When the first case appeared in France, the European Union declared an international pandemic.

* * *

Lynn had searched through every drawer and cabinet. She had hung the lab coat against the stool; her bare feet padded across the linoleum floor, her hair hanging in increasingly tattered clumps around her head. She wetted her face and hands in the sink and ran her hands over her frizzy strands. The red streaks popped into view every so often, and her heart ached for home. She wished she had a ponytail holder.

She checked a second and third time. On the fourth pass, Wade stopped climbing the walls, seeking out cameras or holes to punch through, and grabbed her shoulders to hold her still.

"Stop," he said. He shook her slightly for emphasis. She shoved his hands away and rubbed her face.

"There's no gloves," she said. "There's no shoes. There's no face masks! I can't work with it like this."

_What if it works?_

"Then make demands, babe." He tapped a knuckle on the Plexiglass. "We've got our list ready."

"They won't give them to me," she said. "I already asked."

"Yeah, it is," Wade said to himself. Then: "Why not?"

"Because that's how they'll make me work," Lynn said. She was staring at the cooler where the lungs waited for her.

"How's that work?" Wade had rolled up the bottom half of his mask and was eating half of a sandwich. Lynn hadn't felt hungry in over a day.

"There's no cure, Wade," she said.

 _What if it works?_  She felt sick to her stomach. She rubbed her arm against her nose.

"So...they...I'm sorry, babe, I don't get it." His voice was muffled past bites of lamb and cheese. "Wait, what? No, that's stupid. Then she'd just be sick."

Lynn waited for him to start paying attention to her again. He waved his half-eaten sandwich angrily in the air. "Then she doesn't need to. No, wait. Hey, you. Lynn, yes, you - don't look at me that way, I can see you - don't touch it."

"At all?" She sounded doubtful.

"At all," he said. He walked to the cooler and hefted it with one hand. "Let's chuck this shit down the drain -"

"Don't open it!" She waved both hands under her chin. "It'll be in the air."

"We already opened it, babe."

She said nothing. Her eyes were watery.

"Alright," he said after a long moment, "then we just chuck it into the corner and ignore it, Tell Tale Heart style."

"We can't do that. You set the terms, Wade. If I don't work on it, they'll just kill me anyway."

"Yeah, and then I'll kill anyone else they bring in."

"We need to stall." Lynn was crouching. He set the cooler down next to her; she pressed a hand to the top. "Someone's coming, I  _know_  they are. The best way to stall is to -"

"Give them what they want?" Wade couldn't help sounding offended. His voice was doing that pitchy thing again, and he hated it. "That's easy for you to say, babe."

"To look like it, yes."

Her hands were shaking. She popped the side buttons on the container, but left the lid closed. She needed to remove the temptation. She dug under the counters, pulled out the concentrated hydrochloric acid. It was a liter bottle, thick brown glass with a big white label and warning signs. She slid the cooler's lid open, just enough to allow access. She twisted the top of the glass bottle and carefully, slowly, poured the acid inside.

"I thought she said not to open it," Wade said.

"I did," Lynn said. She poured until the entire bottle was empty, then capped it and slid the cooler lid back into place. She stood up and took the handle, gently rocking the cooler to ensure coverage, then took it to the furthest corner of the room and set it down. She crossed her arms, tapped her index finger against her chin. "Now it looks like I've opened it." She stepped to the plate, where half of the sandwich waited, and peeled off the bread. She picked up the meat from inside and walked back to bench top.

"Th'fuck is she doing?" Wade asked behind her. Lynn reached up and pulled down a white glass mortar and pestle. She dropped the lamb inside and began pressing the meat in slow circles with the pestle.

"Get one of the vials," she said quietly. "Set it here to thaw." She patted the counter next to the pestle.

"Get it yourself," he said, and made a face at her back. She shrugged and kept grinding.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" She sounded angry; the glass clinked loudly in the room.

"Don't break it," he said. "I bet it's expensive. Why are you ruining good glassware?"

"I'm working," she said. "Eat the rest of the sandwich."

There was a pause.

"She hasn't eaten since yesterday," he said. "Is it a hunger strike?"

"Do it fast," Lynn said. She had set the pestle down and walked toward the container with his blood. She opened the top and grabbed a vial, wisps of cold gray smoke wafting over the edges. She sealed the container again and walked back to her station, pulling down a conical plastic tube. Wade was eating as commanded, wasting no time with his meal. Lynn rubbed her forearm across the bottom of her nose and sniffed once. She was holding the vial in one hand, her mouth tight with strain, heating up the blood until she could work with it.

"Oh," Wade said suddenly. "Ohhhhh. Is that how it works in a real lab?"

"No," she said as she dumped a small pinch of ground lamb into the tube. "But they don't know that." She tipped the edge of the vial over the tube and poured in half of the blood, covering the ground meat. She sealed the tube and shook it once, then set it aside. The clear plastic was stained from the top to the bottom. She covered the vial again and replaced it with the others.

"That buys us two days," she said. "Your turn."

"Shit," Wade said, "I didn't know it was a competition."

"It is now," Lynn said. She carved two gouges into the cooler with the edge of a small scalpel. "And I'm winning by eleven."

"Aw, c'mon. I get one point, right? I set terms and shit."

"You brought me here. You're ten points down."

"Which gives me what?"

"Negative nine."

"Aw, nerts."

"Better start catching up," she said. "Soon you won't have any way to win."

* * *

Loki stepped in a frenzy of activity. Jane Foster was scribbling furiously into her much-abused notebook. Tony's hands flew over the invisible keys of the computer system. On the screen, multiple equations and simulations flashed by at dizzying speed.

Behind him, Barton made a small noise of frustration. He heard the agent murmur in Thor's direction, and Thor's sudden bark of laughter made his shoulders tense.

"Sharing a secret joke, Barton?" Loki turned and stared down at the shorter man, who shrugged.

"More like an experience," Barton said. "I don't think you know what it's like to be totally lost by...this." He waved a hand at the screens, and Thor clapped Loki's shoulder.

"Come, brother, and decipher these strange mortal runes," the thunderer said. Loki was turned and led toward Jane, who had looked up and even managed a smile in their direction.

"I believe dear Jane has already translated," Loki said when they were close enough for her to easily hear. She perked up and walked over to them, pointing at the strange scribbles she called notes. Loki thought it a miracle that she could read them herself, much less other observers.

"It's a time pocket. Do you know?..."

"I am familiar with the concept," he said, his eyes scanning over her notes. He was teaching himself as he spoke; she did not need to know that. In a moment, he continued: "I have created similar phenomena."

"You - what? You can  _create_  - nevermind." A sharp look at Thor, who looked chagrined. Jane tapped her notebook with the chewed end of a pen. "That's good. Can you maybe tell where one is?"

"There are patterns," he hedged. Loki wasn't entirely certain that human science and his own magic could be interchanged, but again, there was no reason for her to know that.

"Then suit up," Stark said from the side. He pressed a palm against the table and flipped the hovering projection toward Loki, who peered at the images. A specific location appeared in the mountainous regions of a Midgardian territory; two axes intersected, a giant X which hovered in the air.

"Where is the third axis?" he asked. He reached forward and brushed his hands through the 3D image; the electric currents flickered into him, and the image vanished until he drew his fingers away.

"What the hell?" Tony asked. The image popped back into view. "Ok, look, stop doing weird things for now - we don't have time for tests. The last axis isn't space, it's time."

And the pieces fell into place. Loki drew back, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.

"Ævi forn," he murmured.

"What?" asked Tony.

"A phenomenon," the trickster said. "Sometimes called ævi forn by our elders." He saw the bright interest in both Tony and Jane's faces; the screens behind them had ceased their calculations, a sure sign of Banner's attention.

"A pocket," Loki said. "Of time, as you think. They are untraceable; therefore we must have a direct coordinate before we go haring off into unfamiliar territory."

"We've got a ballpark," Tony said. Loki looked at the intersecting lines hovering in front of them and nodded.

"This will do."

"And you'll what?" Tony asked. "Walk around and sniff for magic?"

"Magic has no scent," Loki said while Barton insisted, "He's not going alone."

"Thunderpants can tag along, sure."

"And me," Barton said. They all looked at him; Tony and Thor nodded while Loki simmered.

"I do not need assistance," he ground out through a clenched jaw.

"I went in last time, I'll be there this time too," Barton said.

"We all will," Steve said from the doorway.

At Thor's pleading look, Loki chose to keep his comments to himself.

* * *

"Teach me how to fight," Lynn said on the third day. She was sitting cross-legged on the cot, watching him do push-ups. He was doing the kind that involved pushing up hard, clapping twice, and coming back down on both palms. It was very impressive.

_It's not that impressive._

"She's asking for pointers, ain't she?" Wade folded his knees in and pushed up to his feet. He rolled the bottom of his mask up and took a healthy swig of the water from the sink. It tasted like metal and rust.

_Gross._

"Where's Brita when you need it," he said. He shook his hand; water clung to the suit and he grumbled.

_It'll dry._

"Shut it," he said. He turned and offered a hand to Lynn, who had been watching in silence. She hadn't slept since day one, that he could remember, and she seemed to think eating was optional.

_Maybe if you let her eat any at all._

"I don't  _take_ it, she just doesn't  _eat_  it. Good food shouldn't go to waste."

"My stomach hurts," she said absently. She knew he wasn't talking to her, but she replied anyway when she felt there was something important to say.

_She looks pretty bad. What are the symptoms again?_

"Fuck if I know," he said. "You seemed pretty game, babe. What skills you lacking?"

"I don't have skills," she said. She was swaying on her feet; they both ignored it. "Assume that, anyway. Nat would kill me."

_Who's Nat?_

"Alright, basics. Hit me."

She stared at him.

"Come on, hit me. The sexual tension is killing me. But not the ear again.  _Never_  the ear again."

She swung, aiming for the ear, of course. He caught her wrist and twisted, pulling her around and flush to his body while twisting her arm around and up, behind her back. She rammed her free elbow back into his torso and he let out an ungraceful  _hurk_.

_She'll go for the groin next._

"She can't reach -"

A hand grabbed his crotch and twisted; he yowled and let her go, falling to his knees.

_She's pretty short._

"Augh! Geez, babe!" He glared at her; even on his knees, he barely had to look up at her.

"Sorry," she mumbled. She rubbed a hand against her sternum and flinched. They both ignored it. "Maybe I know some things."

_Just a few._

"You can use a gun, too."

"Nat taught me," she said. "Tony made it." Lynn's eyes were unfocused, her pupils blown.

_She's about to say something really embarrassing._

"I want to go home," she said. Her voice was small and pained, her eyes watery.

"Ah, shit. Hey, look -"

"I sent him away," Lynn said. "I sent him away."

_Who?_

"God, who cares. Babe, hey, look. Look here." Wade raised the first three fingers of his right hand until she focused on them. He dropped two and she snorted.

"Mature," she said.

_At least she's not crying._

"Can't stand that shit," he said. "Alright, moves. I got the moves. I got  _all_ the moves. You like disco?"

"I hate disco."

_Everyone hates disco._

"Chicks dig disco," he said. He heard two snorts of disbelief, and only one came from her. She coughed three times, a sharp, rasping sound, and wiped the back of her hand against her mouth; the spittle came away in a haze of red. They both ignored it.

 _This is bad_.

"Put your foot like this - yeah, just like that. Shit, you already know this. Why do I bother?"

_Because you're bored too._

"How about a backflip," she said.

_That's ridiculous._

"What?"

"I've never been able to do one," she said. "I want to try."

"Let me tell you how many ways that's a bad idea," Wade said. "First -"

_Is that a gun?_

"It can't be."

_It could be a gun._

"Was that a gun?" Lynn asked. She had turned and was staring into the adjacent room, eyes wide. She stepped close to the plastic and pressed a hand to the barrier. "Was it?"

_I guess it was._

"It might've been," Wade said. He was standing further back. "You should clear out of there."

"It's fine," she said. "Bullets can't get through."

_How does she know that?_

The door across the way slammed open; Afzal entered, followed by three of his men. Two were wearing thick scarves around their faces; the third had his head bared, and was watching Afzal closely from behind. The sound of gunfire and shouting, even several explosions, echoed in the hallway behind them.

_What the hell?_

Lynn looked superior. She was staring at Afzal with a smug combination of triumph and relief.

_She knew this was coming._

"Nobody tells me anything." Wade stepped forward and took her shoulder, pulling her back. He knew that look on Afzal's face, and glanced at the blue button.

"You lose," Lynn said from behind him. Afzal's face twisted into an angry grimace. Lynn started laughing, quiet and low.

_She's crazier than us._

"Not by much," Wade said. "Babe, now is the worst time." She didn't hear him.

"You lose, asshole," she said.

_It sounds like she's talking to someone else._

"Babe -"

"My name is Lynn Creed," she screamed, " _and you get nothing from me."_

Afzal had flipped the plastic cover up while she spoke, his finger hovering above the blue button. Lynn stared him down, stared until the man could only follow through or walk away. Explosions rattled in the background; debris fell through the door to rattle and twist against the ground. The chunks were getting larger. She could hear roaring in the distance, and the telltale sounds of thunder.

Afzal turned to his men and shouted at them in his native language, pointing angrily. He turned back to the glass, and Wade saw what was coming a moment too late.

_Shit._

"Wait a goddamned -"

Afzal turned and left; the two scarved men left. The bare-faced man stepped forward, pressed the button. He didn't even look at them as he did it. He left.

Wade beat the Plexiglass and cursed at their departing figures, shouting until he was certain they were too far to hear him.

"Babe, this is bad," he said.

"I dare say," an accented voice said from beyond the door.

_Hey, it's that guy again._

"Do I know him?" Wade asked, confused.

_You really should. He gets all the ratings._

The voice's owner stepped into view, and Wade was absolutely certain he had no idea who this guy was.

* * *

It had taken nearly four more days to navigate the mathematical reality of a time pocket. The three scientists had collectively developed and implemented equations never before seen, and it was Jane who first realized the impossibility of their original model.

"We can't ground it in our plane," she'd said in frustrated understanding. "It's either moving faster or slower. We need to try both."

The leaps of logic were dizzying, and Thor had given in to join Barton, Sif and the good Captain in strategizing away from the intellectual discussion. Loki remained and tempered their mortal musings with magical necessities. While the time pocket might be grounded within their perception, it would not be limited to their reality.

When Bruce made the final connection, the necessary leap into new insight, all of them had paused in momentary respect for a sudden gain of previously undiscovered knowledge. Jane had sat with glistening eyes, moved to tears at their collective enlightenment. Stark had taken the calculations one step further, discovering a way to triangulate a location in all spaces, a way to narrow down the field of focus to one reality regardless of how many steps removed it might be.

Loki had been impatient to be on their way.

They insisted on accompanying him, and he could not blame them. He had anticipated their demands and resigned himself to inevitability, using his time away from the work to focus on his own seiðr. He was not limited any longer - or rather he did not bother to hide the extent of his power - but he still hesitated in the face of revealing abilities to SHIELD by proxy. It was Thor who convinced him with the simple truth that the Avengers already knew, and still SHIELD was ignorant. If they had meant to tell, surely they would have already.

Loki could hardly argue this point.

The mission involved the entire team save Barton's widow, replaced by dear Lady Sif. Loki had suggested he go alone first, to be certain of their arrival; his suggestions were ignored by his brother and gently chided by the Captain. He might have thought they did not trust him, if Sif had not pulled him aside and told him of Steve's troubles with concern. He saw that same concern in her eyes, as well as Barton's and Stark's. When Banner arrived, their greeting was stunted by the man's own quiet apprehension, and Loki had to admit that they did not want to come because of some misguided attempt to control him. No, they were coming because Lynn Creed was their friend, and they wanted to be present to ensure her safety.

Their anxiety was both comforting and ill-fitting, and he would be happy to be rid of their overwrought emotions once this was resolved.

They took him to a private location, away from SHIELD's prying eyes. He had expressed surprise at their caution, to which Barton replied, "What, you want them to know?" The point was made and he moved on, but he would not soon forget that Thor's assurances in regards to his secrecy were proven correct. He was not comfortable knowing that his brother had become so wise, and ignored the revelation to focus on the need for powerful seiðr. The time to ponder Thor's various changes would come later.

He drew upon Yggdrasil's children, weaving a great bough to his whims and twisting the flowing energy through his form. He took them all in a wide net and pulled them across both time and space, his own associations building as they spun through the in-between to crash upon the present - only now the present was the future, and today was the past.

They all struggled with disorientation save Thor, who seemed invigorated by the transition. He beamed at Loki and clapped his back, and they were both reminded of different days. Neither better nor worse, merely different.

Loki pushed his brother's hand from his shoulder, and the siege began.

He had seen all of them fighting before and was familiar with their methods. Without incentive to stay and observe, and with a mission already in play, he slipped beneath their mutual sights and began his search. He knew how to remove the pocket from its reality; he had dropped them near enough to find it quickly, and the spell was ready within his fingertips. A simple incantation to remove the forces which held the pocket outside of the normal progression of time and remove any barriers therein. In minutes he found the container, and stepped inside to look across a clear barrier and find the intended target.

Loki felt triumphant, and as he shimmered into sight he let his gloating show. Lynn stood across from him, the barrier between them. He wanted to laugh at her, to crow his successes. He settled for pride.

"I presume you will apologize, once I have freed you."

She looked beyond exhausted - the circles under her eyes were deep hollows, dark and bruised.

"Sure," she said. Her voice was grating and raw; she was unwell. He felt his worries rise, and nodded. He raised his hands, smiling wide, and waved them together. One over the other, one circle, two, a third - the forces containing the pocket shimmered and fell, taking the clear barrier with it. He reached forward to offer a hand and help her over the cleared pathway -

His fingers hit the barrier. She looked down where they hit, back up to his face. His pride fell away to confusion first, anger second. He balled a fist and slammed it against the barrier. The wall's force held firm - he had failed.

"What," he said. Thor stepped forward - of course Thor was here - and took his shoulder, pulling Loki back a step. He hefted Mjolnir, braced and swung to strike the shield, a stupid mortal wall which should collapse at the smallest tap from Mjolnir. Thor staggered back - the barrier held.

Lynn watched them with dulled, sad eyes, and Loki could not stand her defeat.

"Now just a second," her kidnapper said. Loki turned to the man who he hadn't bothered to acknowledge before. "I thought he had all the mojo in the universe or whatever. How is this not working?" He was speaking directly at Loki now, accusatory and fierce. "How are you failing at this? Isn't this your  _thing?_ "

Lynn was looking down, closed off from all of them. Loki started forward - Thor held him back. He snarled until he saw the green beast ready a fist beside them.

"All together," Thor said, and readied his hammer. Loki raised his hands and prepared the spell; Banner reared back and struck. The spell, Mjolnir and the Hulk's mighty fist met simultaneously, an explosion of force which sent them all reeling away.

When his head cleared again, the barrier held - and Lynn stood in the same place, unmoved and unshaken. Her kidnapper lowered his hands from covering his head in anticipation.

" _No_ ," Loki said. It was the only word he had left, the only word which made sense of this sight. How could this be?  _How could it hold?_

"Shit," said her kidnapper, "shit shit  _shit shit._  Lynn, darlin', get down, get on the floor. Away from the gas.  _Shit._  Get down, get down!"

She stayed standing, watching Loki with those sad, defeated eyes. When she spoke, they all strained to hear her.

"You need to leave now," she said.

"No," Loki said. Behind him, he felt the others melt away, save Thor. Noble, caring Thor, who stood witness to his brother's pain because of some misguided love. He found his voice through Thor's strength. " _No._  There is a way; I will find it."

"Now is not the time for romantic sappy bullshit!" her kidnapper yelled. "They poisoned the goddamned air! Lynn, get the fuck down!  _Get down!_ "

"There's no point," she said, to all of them. "I'm sick. I know you can see it." This to Loki, who shook his head in denial.

"There's no cure," Lynn said. Thor's hand on his shoulder; he shoved it away. "This is better."

Her kidnapper, the one called Wade, grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down, forcing her to sit on the floor. He was straining to breathe; he was taller than her by over two heads, and when he sat next to her his breaths came hard.

"Lie down, babe," he said through his own gasping. "Lie down and cover your head."

Lynn stared up at Loki, who felt the pang of an unmerciful god standing above the destruction of his own creation, unable to stop the path set so long ago. But this was not destruction he had chosen. It was not mercy which clenched his heart, no - nor was it anger any longer. He might have called it fear, but he was too focused on her face, her small, open face and her dark wet eyes. She blinked slowly and breathed deep, and she coughed harshly of a sudden. The invisible killer had descended; her kidnapper was grasping his own throat, trying to force her down to the ground.

"You don't need to watch this," she said to him, and slid down, down to the ground. Her arms were splayed, her fingers twitched; she panted and stared straight ahead at the ceiling.

Loki felt keening building in his throat. He could not stand to see himself fail so completely.

"Amma Lynn, Amma Lynn," Loki said, and crouched at her level. He pressed a hand to the barrier that still stood between them, his face blank and composed. Inside he roiled, he shouted, he roared and tore the stone from the very face of the mountain. This calm, this placid lake of serenity was for her alone.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said, blinking at the ceiling.

"Yes, if you look to me."

She turned her head enough, twisted her eyes and met him head-on. Her kidnapper had stilled, having taken too much in too soon; her eyes were glazing as darkness fell.

"What did it smell like?" she asked. Loki's mouth twitched; he nearly cracked, save for her expectant stare, her hopeful belief.

"Sulfur," he said, "and heat. It was most unpleasant. Midgard is far more appealing now than ever before."

She inhaled and gasped; her eyelids fluttered. She could not see him any longer, and still she stared.

"Lie for me," she whispered as panicked tears streamed down her face. "Tell Tony I was brave."

"Amma Lynn, you could never stand to have someone speak for you. I will open my mouth and you will yell in anger, insisting that I not say a word in your place. You will tell him yourself. Won't you? Amma Lynn, speak to me - Amma Lynn, can you hear me?"

His palm curled into a fist; her eyes were open and staring, staring at the nothing ahead of her. Her chest was no longer rising. He clenched his jaw.

"Amma Lynn," he said. Thor's hand touched his shoulder; Loki dared not move. "Amma  _Lynn_."

"Loki," Thor said. He made neither demands nor concessions; he merely stated the trickster's name, a quiet, sad pairing of syllables. A vocal admission that the battle was already lost. Loki turned wide eyes to the thunderer, his emotions laid bare and unencumbered. He could not focus; he could not  _see_. He stared at the golden prince of Asgard and felt his soul, that shriveled essence so long unused, splay itself to the thunderer's mercy.

"Brother," he said, his voice cracking with the onslaught of defeat, "what have I done?"


	11. Peace

_For anyone who hasn't seen Winter Soldier and isn't watching Agents of Shield, there is a particular development that I'm going to be using in this story. This constitutes a massive spoiler at the end of this chapter for the Marvel cinematic franchise as a whole. FYI._

* * *

Loki stood with his arms crossed and feet braced, watching a stunning Midgardian sunrise and hating the beauty around him. The dawning morning light created halos of gold around the mountains peaking nearby, and the moon was still visible in the sky.

How he hated this realm. Unlike any other, save perhaps Asgard itself, Midgard bore silent witness to his worst failings. It was in this realm that he had suffered his first military defeat, and it was in this realm that he found himself questioning his purpose outside of destruction.

_Despite my efforts, Ragnarok follows me._  The thought crumbled and spread, planting seeds of hate wherever it settled within his core.

The siege was over and victory was theirs in a tangential, unspecified manner. The Avengers present had killed those who crossed them, though the leader was plainly not among the dead, and the survivors remained mute. At this moment, Stark and Banner worked in tandem to solve the present riddle: why had the wall not fallen?

Loki plagued himself. How had his magic failed? There were clearly other forces in play, yet he sensed nothing when he attempted to discover them.

He heard the sounds of a mortal behind him and waited to see who dared approach. It was Stark who drew up alongside, arms crossed in a similar manner as the trickster's. Together they watched the sun slide below the distant mountaintop, and Stark sighed in frustration.

"Times like this," he said, "I kind of hate the view."

Loki said nothing, somewhat galled that he could relate in any way to the emotions of this mortal. Tony raised a paper to read and squinted at the words and numbers scrawled across the page.

"If Nat's right about this guy, once the wall falls he'll, uh, wake back up. Like a goddamned zombie Jesus or something. I'll say 'he is risen' and Steve will probably get offended. Anyway, then we'll get more answers."

"The prisoners have given you nothing?" Loki kept his voice even and controlled, near-bored. He had yet to move.

"No, and with Captain Geneva as the boss we can't force it." Tony sighed and offered him the paper. "Take a look. Maybe you'll see something we can't."

"Jane Foster might," Loki offered as he took the paper and scanned the calculations. "She is quite clever, as Thor claims."

Tony rubbed the back of his neck. Loki had already committed the page to memory, but had learned that Tony would not accept anything handed his way. The trickster dropped his hand to his side and clenched his jaw. Next to him, he felt the very air around Stark tremble as the mortal braced himself for an unpleasant conversation.

Loki spoke first.

"She was brave," he said gently, as though the news should be some sort of relief. Tony's face twisted in pain and he turned away, a sharp cough of air entering, then escaping his lungs.

"She tell you to say that?" he asked his right hand. Loki did not reply. "I thought so. I didn't need her brave, I needed her alive."

"She is not alive any longer."

"Jesus," Tony said in a sudden, drunk-sounding slur. His eyes were red when he turned back. "You really give no shits, do you?"

Loki raised the paper and stared at the small dotted lines.

"Not even one? God. Right, ok. I should've remembered who I was talking to. I should've remembered." Tony drew away, and Loki felt the good regard of the Avengers move with him. He was here, and safe, because they considered him attached. Now that leash was gone.

"I did this," he said to the paper in his hand. He paused until he was sure Tony's steps halted. He imagined the mortal angled so that his ear could catch the trickster's speech. Loki lowered the paper and looked out to the darkened mountains.

"A long chain of events, all culminating in one flashing moment of pain. It was before the Chitauri - before the void, or even the fall. No, it started when an Æsir warrior took mercy on an abandoned monster in the cold."

Loki tilted his head upward. The stars were emerging as the light dimmed.

"Do you believe in fate, Stark?"

"Depends how drunk I am," Tony said. He stepped closer, burying his hands in his pockets. "Depends how badly I need something to not be my fault."

"I am bound by it. There is nothing I could have done, in the end, to prevent this - death follows me, and I wear it as a cloak, a shroud over my very nature. It is built into my very core, the heart of the beast." Loki laughed, a twisted, despairing sound. "I had thought, with my destiny fulfilled, that perhaps I would be released."

"Ragnarok?" Tony raised his eyebrows at Loki's sharp look. "Lynn told me about it. Thor, too, but mostly Lynn."

The name threw Loki off-balance. He waited several moments before responding.

"Yes," he said, "she would know."

"Some of us are just better at killing." Tony shrugged. "Find what you're good at, do it better than anyone else. But don't take credit for the shit you didn't do."

"Indirect responsibility is still responsibility," the trickster said. He felt raw and beaten for saying it, and braced himself for a crow of victory from the inventor.

"If that's true, then someday I'll really go crazy," Tony said. "Here's something you might not know: right now I'm winning the human corpse battle with you. My pile's way bigger."

"The merchant of death, is it?" Loki felt cruelty rise within him, and did not bother to fight the urge. "How well acquainted you are, Stark. Perhaps I should have come to you for advice."

"Would've done better," Tony said. Loki snapped a glance at him to find the inventor relaxed, even amused. He knew Loki was lashing out and simply didn't respond.

Loki could have strangled him for it.

"Before you kill me, how about we go check on Bruce's progress?" Tony said. He jerked his head toward the doorway and began walking in the same direction, leading Loki back toward the prison. Loki followed behind for lack of a better plan, and crossed the spell's threshold just behind the inventor. Inside, Bruce looked up from his notes, just completing a sequence while Thor stood to the side. Tony looked at the notes over Bruce's shoulder and raised both eyebrows.

"Bruce, this is the same shit you were working on two hours ago," the inventor said.

"Huh?" Bruce looked down at the papers in his hand, eyebrows raised. "You just left and came right back, with Loki."

"I've been gone for two hours."

Bruce creased his brow. "No, Tony - you left, and it couldn't have been more than ten seconds before you came back in."

The spell, Loki thought. He said nothing. He glanced once at the barrier, at what was beyond the barrier. He looked away to listen once more.

"-time pocket!  _That's_  why the spell didn't work!"

"What?"

"It's not that it didn't work," Tony said. "It just hasn't worked  _yet_."

Loki looked again at the barrier. At what lay beyond.

"Then the barrier will fall in time?" he asked.

"We're standing in a time paradox. I bet we wait long enough, it'll come down."

"This is good news," Thor said, watching his brother. Loki remained impassive, his face a calm, serene mask. "We will retrieve the mercenary, and Lynn Creed's -"

"Is it wise to wait within this room?" Loki asked suddenly. "If the air inside of the room is poisoned, perhaps it would be best to keep away."

"Good point," Bruce said. "We don't know what they used. Once the barrier falls it could flood out and get us too."

"But we don't know how long to stay away," Tony said.

"It could take days," Bruce said. "Either way we're just sitting here, staring at an invisible wall."

"He will revive on his own once the barrier falls," Loki said. "There is only to maintain watch on the exit to this very room. When he attempts to leave -"

"We get'im," Tony said. "Simple enough. And once he's up we know the air's clear enough to pull out Lynn's -"

"We will need a plan of approach for him," Loki said. "Someone who can survive death itself will surely not have much by way of fear for injury."

"We've got Nat," Tony said. "She can get  _any_ one to talk."

"Then it is decided," Thor said. "We will await the fall, and revival of this man." Tony and Bruce nodded; Loki's gaze once again drifted to the barrier, and what was beyond. His fingers twitched.

"You go," Thor said to the mortals. "We will soon follow."

"That's a real nice way of saying 'get the hell out,'" Tony said. "C'mon Bruce, we've got cameras to set up."

The mortals left, and Loki tensed. Thor approached the barrier and crouched; Lynn's dead stare greeted him across the way, and he pressed a wide palm to the barrier as he observed her.

Loki released a small breath, then inhaled and held the air inside of his lungs.

"Such a tiny thing, a mortal's life. So short, and fleeting - Father would never approve," Thor said.

"I do not care what your father would say," Loki hissed, and cursed himself at Thor's knowing look. The thunderer stood and approached Loki, who tensed and stepped back.

"Loki," Thor said, "you know what is in that room."

"The mercenary," Loki said. "We will extract information -"

"And what else?" Thor's tone was mild and soothing. He stopped before Loki could push him away. "What else is in that room?"

"The disease, the strain - the mortals should stay away, they could not survive if they were infected -"

"And what else, Loki?"

"Amma Lynn," Loki choked. His eyes burned; his hands clenched. "She is trapped inside of that room, and has been these past days -"

"It is not Lynn Creed any longer," Thor said as gently as he could. His hands rose and pressed down on Loki's shoulders; his eyes refused to release the trickster's.

"What else is in that room, Loki?"

"Stop this," Loki said. He was low and desperate; he shook his head and refused to meet Thor's gaze.

"What else?" Thor was kind and patient, his strength flowing from his hands into Loki's flat shoulders. The trickster braced himself, forced himself to utter the truth - a strange endeavor for a mouth so accustomed to lies.

"The body," the trickster replied, and grasped his brother's hands on his shoulders. "It is Amma Lynn's body."

He looked up to Thor now, waiting for the thunderer to shake his head, to deny the truth as a lie as he had so many other statements from the trickster's mouth. Surely by uttering the words they became a lie - surely, with Loki taking ownership of the phrase and its contents, the meaning was no longer true.

Thor nodded, asserting their truth, and Loki felt the barriers inside his own mind dissolve away. A loud groan erupted from his mouth; his face contorted, and he gripped his stomach and gasped out in pain.

"You were right, brother," he said through the hurt. "We found her."

"Yes," Thor said, "we did."

And their thoughts whispered,  _too late_.

* * *

Clint didn't like waiting, so he didn't like the plan. He braced a foot behind him; the wall was smooth and white, the room spotless and clean. The entire facility was hidden within the mountains, designed to look like nothing more than a small cave entrance from the outside. Once inside, the cave gave way to high tech machinery, crisp angles and fluorescent lights. This was a professional operation, and Clint had to admit he hadn't expected this level of technology.

_There you go again_ , he admonished himself,  _judging books by their summaries or whatever._

Tony and Bruce rounded a corner further down the corridor and approached him. As they walked, his communicator binged, signaling an incoming transmission. He reached to his ear and poked at the tiny set, eyes glazing as his focus turned inward.

"Barton," he said.

"Clint," Natasha said. "Have you heard from Fury? Or anyone else in SHIELD?"

"No," Clint said, glancing up at Tony and Bruce. "We're on mission."

"Who else is there?"

"Stark, Banner, the brothers. Steve's not here."

"He and Sif are with me." Natasha sounded rushed, even nervous. Clint gripped at his ear and narrowed his eyes.

"Natasha, what's wrong?"

"Uh, guys?" Nat's voice sounded strained; Bruce and Tony both shot to high alert, their own comms buzzing as Natasha accessed all three.

"Everything alright, Nat?" Stark asked, raising his eyebrows at Barton, who shrugged to indicate he didn't know yet.

"It's SHIELD," she said.

"What about it?" Tony asked.

"It's gone."

 


	12. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: It's ironic that the MERS virus is in the news now. A good example of how the media freaks out.
> 
> Spoiler warning: if you don't know who the Winter Soldier is, you will by the end of this chapter.

 

Clint had been an orphan for the majority of his life. Home was wherever he slept for the night, and he had slept many nights within a SHIELD bunker, awaiting new orders from Director Fury. A man known in public as "Director Fury" and in private, among some of the operatives, as "that rat bastard."

To an even smaller demographic, composed of fiercely loyal seconds, discarded orphans and ex-Russian spies, he was known as simply "sir."

"Where's Fury?" Clint asked, his fingernails digging into the flesh behind his ear. "Where's the rendezvous?"

"There isn't one," Natasha said. He heard more information wedged in between the words and syllables, enough to send him ripping the earpiece from his head and slamming it to the ground. He stopped himself from stomping it into tiny shards only because it was the last connection to Natasha. It was a near thing.

Tony's face was screwed up and pale. Bruce barely looked concerned.

"That's it," said Tony, "that's the  _last time_  I get attached to someone from SHIELD! Nat, Barton, if either of you die, so help me God -"

"Tony," Bruce said, and nodded at Clint. The inventor pressed his lips into a tight line.

"Sorry, Clint," Tony said, wiping a hand across his mouth. "Sensitivity training never did stick."

Clint was picking up his earpiece, his face a solid mask of indifference. He slid it into his ear.

"Natasha?" he said, waiting for her to acknowledge his voice. "Where's the rendezvous?"

"She just said -" Tony began.

"We're coming to you," Natasha said. Tony looked at Bruce, who shrugged.

"I thought she said no rendezvous," Tony said after Natasha cut the communication.

"She did," Clint said, and began checking over his bow to make sure the mechanism was polished, clean and ready.

* * *

The contagion spread. Official quarantine had been declared for the city of Philadelphia, which now had over three hundred confirmed cases. One of the city hospitals was devoted entirely to treating those who were infected, and turned away all other cases. The doors were sealed with plastic, the air inside vacuum compressed to prevent further passage of the unknown assailant. Employees were required to wear contamination suits at all times, which were discarded daily for a fresh suit the following day. All used suits were burned, and the smoke was passed through chlorine dioxide gas and purified before exiting into the atmosphere.

Manhattan became old news in the media radar as the entire island was swept up in panic. The cases continued to spread unchecked, and no immunity was observed in any of the inhabitants. With SHIELD gone, the CDC called upon all available research resources, from private companies to public institutions, and opened a network which all of them could access.

A private company bead-beat human lung cell samples and isolated all of the DNA available for sequencing. All DNA was sequenced and BLASTed to funnel through what was alien and what was human; no matching organisms were found in any database. They were working blind, and desperation led to opportunities.

The Red Death spread from France into Spain, then Germany. England sealed its borders upon the announcement of the first case, effectively isolating itself from adverse effects. More than one news bite blamed foreign immigrants for the surge. A Swiss politician, speaking in front of hundreds of xenophobic banners, laid the blame at the feet of Muslim settlers in the region. Radio talk show hosts picked up the quote and spread it like wildfire. Tensions heightened, and several attacks were seen on immigrants within Italy.

In forty-eight hours, the death toll had tripled from six hundred and two to over eighteen hundred. The CDC called upon its European counterparts, granting them access to the network. The Japanese databank was included next, the three entities passing information daily between them. Differing regulations in Europe and Japan allowed for greater research possibilities, and it was a Swiss engineer who found the Ridley strain nestled inside of the mitochondria of a lung cell, the tiny microorganism feeding on the energy generated.

"I would have called it a virus," the articles quotes him saying. "It is nearly a virus, it is so small."

The samples were frozen, stored on dry ice and sent throughout the world. The international community waited for the cure to arise.

The infected now outnumbered the dead.

* * *

A day and a half passed without incident on the mountain. Natasha arrived with Steve and Sif, who were both nursing wounds which Bruce took it upon himself to dress. Steve was quiet and Sif remained at his side, murmuring to him occasionally. Tony explained what they were waiting for and Steve only nodded, happy to take the time to recuperate.

Thor found the larder, as he called it, and dragged out pallets of food for them to prepare over an open flame which Loki created. The group huddled together in the cool night, their collective body warmth masking the shroud which hung over them.

Loki did not speak.

Tony quizzed Steve on the events which led to the dissolution of SHIELD. His face fell when he heard of the culprit - the never-dead Hydra, not resurrected but merely concealed and now revealed to the light. Natasha pulled Clint aside and explained her own actions, and their newly publicized crimes. Clint understood the decision; Tony made job offers to Steve, Natasha and Clint on the spot, and refused to hear their protests.

"We'll privatize world peace some more," he said, and that was that.

Sif shook her head when Tony began to pry further. It was obvious that Steve suffered from something deeper, something which bothered him on a level which Hydra hadn't touched. The lady warrior pulled him aside often, and finally tugged him into joining her for a walk around the compound.

She laced her arm through his, a familiar, friendly Midgardian gesture she enjoyed.

"I know that you blame yourself," she said to him as they rounded out of sight from the group. Steve raised no protest, and she nodded. "Just as Thor often does, for actions which are not his own. You cannot deny the facts, Steve - you did not know."

"I didn't look," he said. Her arm tightened around his.

"No one would have looked, Steve. You said he fell to his death."

"I was wrong."

Sif thought of Thor and the Warriors Three, and placed herself in Steve's position in her mind. She sighed.

"I do not know what I would think of myself in a similar position, but I am sure it would not be much." She smiled tightly when Steve looked at her, eyebrows raised. "You've suffered great losses in your lifetime which I cannot relate to. Perhaps your friend's return is less a curse than a boon?"

"Maybe," Steve hedged. He wanted to believe it, and without Bucky's face haunting him behind closed eyelids he might have allowed himself flights of fancy where Bucky would one day be happily reunited with his friend.

Years of hoping to wake up from this prolonged nightmare of modern life had taught him how to ignore his baser desires. He had learned the hard way that reality pulled no punches when it came to Steve Rogers.

"Glad for the escort, though," he said, and patted her hand where it looped his forcep. Sif smiled sadly and wished for an end to all of this.

"Wouldn't it be nice to have a boring day every once in a while," he said, and together they laughed grimly at life's follies.

* * *

_Don't move._

"Why not?" His voice was slurred and painful; his lungs still hurt.

_Don't speak, either._

"Too late."

_Bad idea._

"Quit with the cryptic." Wade raised an arm and groaned, pressing his fingers against his forehead to stem the ebbing headache.

_Why don't you listen?_

"You're not the boss of me."

"Who is it that you speak to?"

Wade's eyes shot open and he lifted himself to his elbows, looking in the direction of the cultured voice. A man all dressed in green leaned against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest and one knee crooked. Wade raised two fingers in a peace sign.

"Hey, we're like Christmas in here! Give peace a chance."

_Don't antagonize him._

"Why the fuck not?" Wade's eyes drifted to the side, where a small female form remained silent and still. " _Oh…_ "

He looked up. The man hadn't moved at all, watching him with slitted, passive eyes. Wade rolled to his knees and waved two hands over the body.

_Don't_.

"Aw, babe." He reached to check for a pulse, knowing he wouldn't find one, and that was when the man moved.

He couldn't see the movement except for a static blur, the sensation of flying and then slamming into the lab bench. Supplies clattered and flew as the weight of his body displaced them. Several bottles fell, and he grabbed the wrist holding him down against the countertop. He couldn't breathe easily, but that didn't stop him from trying.

"It wasn't personal," he choked out, and was flying again.

_You should grow wings._

He didn't have time for a comeback; he landed on top of the cooler with the lungs and knocked it sideways. The top cracked and sprung to the side, and viscous, dark liquid splattered outward. The lungs, dissolved into a mass of flesh soup. His hand landed in the puddle and he jerked it away when he heard the sizzling.

"Aw,  _gross_ , dammit!" He started to rip his glove free and found that he couldn't move. He was pressed to the wall, that same grip around his throat and now a new one around his untouched hand. The sizzling was louder. He choked and scraped the cloth against the wall behind him, trying to rid himself of the burning fabric.

The look was the same. Impassive, cold, barely a sneer. When his hand started stinging, he recognized the face.

"Say, aren't you that guy from New York?"

Wade raised his burning hand and pressed it against the man's chin; he hissed and dropped Wade, all at once, green light flaring in a blinding flash. Wade ripped off the glove and tossed it away. The skin underneath was white and blistered until his healing kicked in. The blisters sank away, and the pain with them.

_It's like cheating._

"Can you suffer?" The rasped question sounded deadly. He looked up. Now  _there_  was some emotion: hatred, pain, and something very close to murderous rage.

"Can we talk about this?" Wade asked. The man fisted his hands; green-yellow flashes began to grow.

_I bet it's gonna hurt._

"Whoa whoa, hey! Cool it!" Wade raised both hands in surrender. "I lose!"

_He's going for the neck again._

"Gak," Wade said as he was hefted into the air. This time he couldn't get enough air to speak, which was probably just as well, because this time, the guy looked  _pissed_.

"It is  _your fault_  she suffered, and it is  _your fault_ she is dead," he rasped. "And for  _that_ , I will kill you slowly _._  Again," the hand drew him forward, slammed his head back against the wall, "and  _again._ "

_It won't take._

"N sht," he choked. The hand around his throat tightened.

_This is gonna hurt._

"Loki," a deep baritone said from behind. The hand loosened and the glare softened, flickered to the side. An acknowledgement of a witness.

_The hell kind of name is Loki?_

"Loki, enough."

"It is  _not_  enough, Thor," Loki snarled.

"That's not for you to decide, Loki." Another voice. Wade shifted his eyes and saw an American flag as a suit.

_Holy shit._

"Can I have your autograph?" he asked around the hand. Loki tightened his fist again to cut off further words, and he gagged.

"Loki,  _enough_." The baritone manifested into a large blond, easily recognizable. Wade didn't like this. This was probably bad.

_It's definitely bad._

Thor touched his brother's shoulder, once, and the trickster released Wade at once. The mercenary caught himself on his feet and rubbed his hand across his throat, waiting for the muscles to mend before daring to speak.

_Don't speak._

"I always speak," he said. "So, fellas -"

A fist cracked square into the center of his face; his nose shattered under the force of the blow and he staggered back. "Motherfucker!" he cried, " _ow!_ "

Steve shook his hand and scowled at the mercenary. "I think it was deserved."

_Captain American says you deserved it._

"Small favors," he muttered as his nose mended itself. The cartilage reshaped and crackled into place. "Gah.  _Gah_. I hate that."

"I think our position is clear," Captain goddamned America, Crusher of Noses said. He was wiping his fist with his other hand, cracking the knuckles as though he needed to loosen up the muscles. "Two of us are gods, and one of us wants to kill you pretty badly."

"He is quite creative," Thor offered with a friendly smile. "It is a challenge, that you cannot die."

"Accepted," Loki said.

_Yeah, this is bad._

"So you're going to tell us who hired you and why," Captain America, Unleasher of Insane Gods said. "And then we'll decide if it's good enough."

"That's not a very good deal," Wade said. "Shouldn't it be 'and then we'll let you go?' Or at least, 'and then you'll live without horrible, horrible torture?'"

The Captain was looking down at the small body not ten feet away from where they stood. His jaw was clenched, his eyes hard. Thor crossed his arms, which drew attention to his massive muscles. Loki stared with the same cold expression as before, all of the violence once again harnessed in the face of company.

_Don't be alone with that guy._

"That's the offer you get," the Captain said. "I don't make promises I can't keep."

_Is that comforting?_

"Nope," he said, "I'm pretty sure it's not."

* * *

"Of course it's the Ten Rings," Tony harped angrily. "Of course it is! Who else can pop up again? Anyone have any evil exes to fess up to?"

"You don't want to know," Natasha said dryly.

"We need a course of action here," Steve said. The group was huddled around a table deep within the compound. "There's too much to tackle at once. We need one goal at a time."

"Who are our foes, as we know them?" Thor asked. Loki stood behind him with his arms crossed, staring at the video feed where Wade Wilson, prisoner of the Avengers, sat in a holding cell within the compound.

"Hydra," Natasha said.

"Ten Rings," Tony said.

"The Ridley strain," Bruce said. Everyone paused to look at him, and he shrugged. "It started all of this; I'd call it the biggest problem we have. If that thing wipes out everyone, none of the rest matters."

"I have Lynn's notebook from inside that lab," Tony said hesitantly. He'd skimmed through most of the notes, realizing immediately that they were gibberish meant to fool the less scientifically minded. Until he hit the last page where she'd been writing, and the handwriting became clearer, more focused.

_What if it works?_  the notes asked. He slid them in front of Bruce, who read through slowly. His face tensed and he clenched his hands on the table.

"What is it, Bruce?" Steve asked.

"She found a way," Bruce said. "Maybe." He turned the page and showed it to Steve, who scanned the words and shook his head to show he didn't understand.

"Look, this guy, Deadpool - he heals. Here, she says he can survive anything. His blood can regenerate on its own."

Steve glanced at Tony, who had one fist pressed under his chin as he stared at the table. The fingers of his other hand strummed against the table.

"Ok?" Steve said. "What does that have to do with the strain?"

"They can use this mercenary to study the disease," Loki said from behind Thor. His eyes shone brightly with appreciation of the idea. He looked nearly giddy. "This strain will not yield to your sciences as of yet, correct? His blood could solve the riddle."

Tony drummed his fingers.  _What if it works?_  the notes said. He couldn't blame her for her fretting. He didn't share the same hesitation.

"I say we do it," the inventor said. "What've we got to lose?"

"What are we talking about doing?" Clint asked.

"Donating his ass to science," Tony said. "Hook, line and sinker. Lynn already drew blood; let's collect that and work from there."

"This isn't right," Steve said. Bruce nodded immediately, and Steve was relieved to know he wasn't alone. Sif stood at his back as well, and her hand gently squeezed his shoulder before pulling away. Steve looked at Natasha, who was turning her hands over and over. She had washed the body alone, out of respect for Lynn's gender, and laid her out in a bunk down the hallway. They might bury her in the morning, when the mountain air was easier to work in.

"Lynn was my friend," she said, and added nothing further.

"I side with you, Steve," Thor declared. "This man is our prisoner now, and should be afforded certain rights."

Loki snarled at his brother's back. "What do you care for this mortal's life?"

"It is a bad precedent, Loki," Thor said.

" _For what?_ "

"It could have been you," the thunderer said, and they all turned to look at him. "Do you deny it? Your Director Fury asked me to torture him, in so many words, and I am his brother. If I had not been present, what would have been done?"

"I wouldn't let it come to that," Steve said quietly, and Thor nodded at him.

"You stand alone often, Steve," Thor said. "I cannot trust it will always be enough."

"That's fair," Steve said.

"You are all fools," Loki rasped. He turned on his heel and stalked from the room, the door slamming behind him.

"Ok, so, Ridley strain, then the others, right?" Bruce asked. "I just want to make sure my priorities are straight here."

"Someone should find him," Steve said wearily. Thor began to stand, but Clint raised a hand and excused himself.

"Be careful, Clint," Natasha said. He nodded and left the room.

* * *

There was only so long he could avoid the inevitable, and now that the body was moved and cleansed, he could not force himself away any longer. Loki pushed open the door where Lynn Creed's body rested, and forced himself to look upon the remains.

She had been a friend, if he were honest. She was exasperating and challenging, a stubborn tiny mortal who never could understand her place.

Now she was only cold and silent, and he couldn't understand why.

The door creaked behind him and the archer stepped forward to stand at his side. His right hand side, the trickster mused, and wondered if Barton noticed. Judging from the somewhat annoyed expression on the smaller man's face, he did.

"I had a brother, once," Clint said. "I told you that."

"You did," Loki said quietly.

"No family left now. SHIELD was like family. Fury was someone I could count on, always." Clint crouched next to Lynn and took her hand. Loki waited for her to rouse from her slumber. Her chest remained still, as did her eyes, and he hurt, oh, he hurt.

"Natasha told me about some of the guys who were Hydra. I knew them. We worked together." Clint sighed and let go of Lynn's hand, standing back up. "I never knew. I guess none of us did, and now that world is gone."

The world where SHIELD existed. Loki understood.

"I have experienced loss, Barton," the trickster said. "I survived each time before."

"We all have," Barton said. "Don't forget that. She was our friend, too."

"Was. The past tense, to indicate a history now gone." Loki closed his eyes and thought of the Gauntlet. "How could one so unworthy be given such a gift?"

"You mean Wade?" Clint asked, misunderstanding completely. "It was part of a program, from what Nat says. He wasn't born that way."

This was intriguing. Loki looked at Clint, who shrugged. "I don't know more than that."

"How convenient, then, that he is here to provide further information."

"Loki," Clint said, "she's dead. Humans, once we've died, we stay that way."

"Except this man," Loki said casually. There was something else picking at the edge of his consciousness, something he had heard when his waking mind wasn't present. A bit of information that he could use. He pricked at the thought and waited for his brain to elaborate.

Loki had ever been unwilling to accept the reality presented to him, instead choosing to mold reality to his needs. Surely death was simply another form to exploit. And someone about the mercenary, specifically - some connection to death itself -

_He, I cursed with life -_

Loki smiled then, a tight, cruel smile. There was one game left to play; he had not lost this hand yet.


	13. Onward

Life was easier now. The constant nagging dread of inevitability was gone, the relative fragility of a mortal body giving in to death freeing Loki from the harness of attachment. He was grateful for the loss, though he mourned the method.

Tension returned to his relationship with the Avengers. None of them knew the truth of his arrangement with Odin All-Father - that should he take an action outside of the boundaries of moral behavior, it was Frigga who would administer any punishment assigned to him, including execution. As leashes upon his actions went, it was an effective deterrent, and he had not found it necessary to share his limitations with anyone. Not even Thor.

He kept his own council still, which left him with a group of suspicious, powerful humans, a wary Æsir and one overly concerned elder brother. Their constant check-ups and near-stalking behavior irked him, and he found himself seeking solitude deep within the compound. When even these efforts did not relieve him of his escorts, he took to the one location where he would be left in peace.

It was a bitter compromise. Loki did not enjoy standing in the same room as Lynn's cold body, her serene face appearing for all the world as the mask of sleep rather than death. At his own insistence, he had set seiðr upon the corpse to maintain a sort of manageable stasis. It was Clint who insisted on waiting to bury her until they had returned home and could bury her on American soil, so that she would rest at home rather than just outside of the location of her death. The others acquiesced, and room was left undisturbed out of respect for the dead.

Loki could not stop himself from anticipatory hope - the thought that one day he would enter to find her sitting up, confused and angry, and she would demand answers of him.  _Where am I?_  she would insist, when in fact what she meant to say was,  _What have you done?_

The body remained unmoving, and Loki could only look away.

How strange, to feel so strongly that death had become his enemy. He brought it with him wherever he went, yet he fought his essence on principle. He was not the type to be told a destiny and accept his fate without question. He would fight to his dying breath for the sole purpose of proving he could. Even knowing he would lose, even knowing that he had already failed - he would continue to fight. And now, he found himself armed with a new weapon the likes of which he had not previously considered.

The memory was clouded underneath the haze of semi-consciousness and fatigue. Loki struggled to remember details, and had asked Barton's spider for more information only to be turned away. But now, staring down at Lynn's body, he remembered a conversation he had not participated in between two powerful beings, one an ancient being endowed with more power than any one creature should have, the other a master of treachery encased in lies.

He remembered something these mortals did not. Death was not a state of being. It was a person. A woman most often, who existed outside of reality, moving through the shadows in between. She was distant and uncaring in her way, a silent witness to the suffering of countless thousands over the years. But there were some lives which she took an interest in. Some which she appeared to grow attached to, even show affection for. And one, only one, who claimed her love.

Death was a woman, and that woman had a weakness. Loki claimed many talents and skills; mercy was never considered part of his better qualities. His actions would not be tempered by pity. He wondered how far he could push until Death came raging into creation, her body blazing with righteous fury and anguish. He wondered how much the assassin could take before his regenerative abilities broke the last remaining vestiges of sanity - a quality which the man seemed to have a tenuous hold on, at best.

He reached to stroke Lynn's hair, half-expecting her to bat his fingers away. He drew a knife and sliced a small sliver of her locks, red mingling with brown in a strange, uncertain combination. He had never told her his appreciation for the shocks of color in her hair, instead taking offense to the color she had chosen on behalf of his pride. He tucked knife and prize away and straightened himself, pulling at his sleeves with a grim expression. He would remember his obligation and defy Death herself, one final cry of protest before accepting this as fate.

It was the only parting gift he knew to offer.

* * *

"Alright, science central is open for business," Tony said. Bruce was standing several feet away, plugging in an ancient-looking computer. Sure enough, when the system booted, a DOS prompt flashed on the screen.

"Uh, Tony -"

"It's a good thing the Ten Rings left all this crap just laying around. I'd've thought they had no taste otherwise." Tony flipped his hand through the air, dragging a holographic model of the room into view. "Whaddaya think, JARVIS? Is she ready for a remodel?"

Rather than answer, the hologram shifted into the form of a white flag. Tony scowled.

"Wrong attitude."

"Very well, sir," the A.I. said. "This bunker is equipped and fully operational, however the gas-generator which serves as the primary power source is limiting."

"Convert it to solar, what does that buy us?"

"Would you also install an arc reactor?"

"Is that a question?"

"With modifications, this compound would be a prime location for research, save for the isolated location."

"Tony, what are you doing?' Bruce asked.

"Making lemonade from this shit show." Tony placed a palm against the monitor where Bruce stood and shoved it to the ground, taking great pleasure from the sound of breaking glass and plastic. Bruce hopped backwards and scowled, dusting glass shards from the top of his shoes.

"That was reckless," he said.

"That's me," Tony said.

"How's it going in here?" Steve asked as he entered the room. He paused upon seeing the broken monitor on the ground, then looked at Tony and raised both eyebrows.

"I would just like to say that of the two people you could've glared at, I've done less property damage," Tony said. Bruce flicked a finger against his shoulder, making the inventor jerk.

"Be nice to me," Bruce said. Tony turned back to Steve.

"SHIELD's totally gone, right? We need somewhere away from the peeping public. Well, take a look." Tony spread his arms wide, encompassing the entire compound around them.

"You think we can use this place?" Steve sounded skeptical.

"This place is cakes. It even has a secret time bunker."

"And it's far away from anyone who knows about SHIELD," Bruce added. "They'll be looking for all of us, won't they? This is about as secluded as you can get."

Steve was looking to the side, jaw clenching as he considered their options. Tony raised his hand after several moments.

"And it's on my dime, anyway," he said. Steve sighed.

"This was a Ten Rings compound. What if they come back?"

"I would love  _nothing_  more than for them to come back, Rogers." Tony was smiling, and there was violence in his eyes. It was easy to remember that this was the man responsible for destroying an entire enemy fleet. His weapons had been the best - efficient, powerful, ruthless. Steve needed him reigned in, which meant he needed Tony to feel free to make some choices without chomping at the bit.

He nodded. "Alright, Tony - get to work."

Tony raised an OK sign with one hand; he was already speaking rapid-fire to JARVIS, ordering him to get Pepper on the phone to take care of ordering and shipments. Steve left the room to the sound of productivity, Bruce following behind.

"Steve," the smaller man said to his back, "what happened?"

Steve shook his head. "It's not your concern, Dr. Banner."

"Hey." Bruce's hand wrapped around his elbow, pulling him to an abrupt halt. Steve turned and looked down at him.

"You've always been square with me, Steve," Bruce stammered. "You can trust me, too." When Steve continued to hesitate, Bruce nudged his shoulder behind him. "Come on. Thor's found all the food by now - let's make sure he's not eating it all."

Steve nodded and followed behind, content to follow someone else, if only for a little while.

* * *

Sif sat with Clint and Natasha, disassembling and cleaning their weapons in companionable silence. Sif had only her spear, the long hilt and sharpened ends gleaming under the soft cloth she favored. Clint had pulled apart the mechanism powering the quiver of his bow, pressing a tiny swabbed tip into the smallest corners to remove particles, dust and debris.

Natasha had two guns which she was polishing, and Sif could not stop herself from watching the process. Her own people used a different sort of gun entirely, which was not so reliant upon pure machinery to function. After catching her eye several times, Natasha waived the Asgardian closer and began explaining the bits, pieces and parts as she cleaned out the barrel with a wire brush. She explained the physics of ballistics and the utilization of gunpowder, and even asked the warrior to break open a bullet so that she could demonstrate how powerful the lit powder could be. The shock of a sudden bright blaze made Sif laugh in nervous excitement, and she recalled her own fondness for these weapons from eons ago.

"Perhaps I shall approach Stark for such a weapon," she said after internalizing Natasha's knowledge. "He made one for Lynn, did he not?"

"He did," Natasha said. "I taught her how to use it."

Clint glanced at Natasha, who looked back at him. Sif felt the undercurrents and leaned back in her seat.

"I was raised with Loki," she reminded them, eyebrows raised. "I know treacherous thoughts when I see them."

"What would Asgard do with a prisoner like this one?" Clint asked, his hands busy with cleaning. He did not look at her when he spoke, and Sif knew to tread carefully in these waters. She could not only speak to her knowledge - here, in this moment, she spoke on behalf of Steve, who as their captain had expressed that the prisoner should not be harmed further.

She considered carefully. This prisoner, Deadpool as the mortals called him, was endowed with a unique ability to overcome any injury, including death itself. She could not immediately recall a time in Asgard's lore when such a creature had been sentenced, though she suspected Loki would be able to. Still, she knew enough of Asgard's methods to guess at the likely course of action. And for Steve, she would make sure to suggest the  _only_  course of action which involved neither torture nor execution - torture to encourage fair treatment of a prisoner under Steve's watchful eye, and execution for the futility of such a method.

"There are bindings which might be laid," Sif said, "to restrain a creature which cannot die. Asgard does not torture her prisoners."

Natasha remembered Thor's refusal to torture Loki, hinged exclusively on Loki's status as a prisoner. Even immortal space Vikings had standards.

"And for murder?" she asked, curious about Asgard's views on execution. Sif pursed her lips, and Natasha knew she'd been caught out.

"Murder is a very particular charge which must be validated as a direct consequence of the accused's actions," Sif said carefully. "The sentence is not taken lightly - Loki, for all his crimes, was sentenced to imprisonment, not death."

That it was the All-Father's own pronouncement, which likely encouraged such leniency, remained unsaid.

"It's not right," Clint said. He assembled the quiver and settled it against the bench, a deep scowl furrowing his brow. "Lynn is dead, and more people are dying. He could help us fix that. She might've found the way."

"Is it honoring her memory to carry on the work she refused to do herself?" Sif asked. She had seen Lynn's notes, and read them with Steve's help - the girl had been torn, conflicted, and ultimately taken steps to ensure that temptation did not lead her down a terrible path. Lynn had been moral because of her own virtue. The same could be said for Steve and Thor, and perhaps Banner. Sif could not so easily claim morality as the primary motivator of these two assassins.

She dared not think of what plans Loki might already be concocting, and trusted that Thor would hold his brother to the high-ground where innate virtue could not.

"Is it honoring her to let it go to waste?" Clint said angrily. Natasha reached out and laid a hand on his arm, which calmed the archer from the edge of temper. "She shouldn't have gone like that. She shouldn't have died alone."

"She was not alone," Sif said gently, though she could not so easily say whether dying with Loki as witness were better or worse. Thor had been present as well, and Sif took comfort in the fact that someone she trusted had witnessed Lynn's final moments to provide some kind of comfort.

Thor had said nothing of what happened in that room, and Loki never would.

The assassins were looking at each other once more, effectively shutting her out of their silent communication. Sif smiled sadly at the two of them, and let them share their grief in silence.

* * *

Loki was walking toward the cell, because there was no point in delaying the inevitable. He would find a way to overcome his own limitations, the spelled bindings surrounding his wrists - he would speak with Heimdall, explain himself in the smooth language he excelled at and convince the guardian that his actions were for a greater good.

In many ways, they were. He just needed to invent them.

He realized as he walked that there was no need to deceive at all. This very compound held the key to his intentions, and he could only call himself distracted for not having realized it before. The ævi forn was close, and he would need very few tricks to convince these mortals that the room had collapsed in on itself without proper maintenance. Only Thor might guess the truth, and Loki was most experienced at deceiving his poor, gullible brother.

The sound of footfalls behind him drew the trickster up short in his path. He considered masking himself from sight to prevent discovery, until he saw who approached him. The mortal paused upon seeing the trickster, then opened a nearby door at random and beckoned him forward before slipping inside. A clear invitation to a conversation with only two participants.

Curiosity drove him forward, and he shut the door behind himself before turning to face Stark.

"I know you want to kill this guy," Tony said, "but he won't stay dead." As intriguing openers went, the inventor could have done far worse. Loki tilted his head and smiled.

"I am aware, Stark."

"There's a better way to get revenge," Tony said. He watched Loki carefully as he continued. "Something that doesn't waste what she found."

"Your captain has already halted that plan."

"He's not my captain. I'm  _his_  boss now. Remember that part? You should pay more attention."

Loki felt time ticking away from him. Heimdall could be watching now, this very instant. But if the idea weren't his…

"Explain," Loki said.

And Tony did.

* * *

"I know what I'd do, if it were my girl," Tony said later. He was speaking quietly, voice a harsh, guttural growl in the room.

"Amma Lynn was never my 'girl,'" Loki said with some anger. Tony snorted and raised both eyebrows, leaning back on his chair.

"I'm pretty smart, remember?"

"She would never have allowed such a thing."

Tony waved a hand. "Pep was the same way. Sometimes it just takes persistence."

They were lost in the moment, past tense slipping into present as reality drifted away. Loki's mind filled with a possibility, a thought he tamped down as instinctively as breathing. There were certain facets of life which the trickster accepted he would never experience.

He was sobered when he remembered that at this very moment, he was denied this possibility regardless of his personal views on the matter.

"What would you do for this Pepper of yours, Stark?" Loki asked. Tony rubbed a hand on his chin.

"What are you really asking?" he asked after a moment. Loki had to admit the man was too clever by half.

"If she was taken in such a manner, and there was some chance of reclaiming that which was lost." Loki watched the inventor closely, and was rewarded with a sharp snap as Tony stared at him.

"Don't say it if it isn't true," he whispered hoarsely.

"And if it were?"

"Then I wouldn't waste time asking for advice."

Loki felt tension settle away from him, lifted from his shoulders to fly into the surroundings. He had chosen his ally well in this task.

"Then we will do as you have suggested," Loki said, "and honor Amma Lynn's work in death."

"One day is all I need," Tony said. "Then we'll be ready to fly."

* * *

The supplies arrived as promised. Tony and Bruce set to work implementing the changes Tony wanted, and Steve, Sif and Thor helped with any heavy lifting required. Natasha was set in charge of re-rigging the video feed throughout the compound to tie in to JARVIS, and Barton climbed to the higher locations to position the cameras just so as her request.

Loki began preparations in the silence of Lynn's room, her body a constant reminder of why he was proceeding at all. He felt the ever-present gaze of Heimdall on his back, and kept his thoughts hidden away, focusing instead on the task Stark requested of him.

In all, the work lasted a total of six hours before the Avengers could truly claim this as their own space rather than the enemy's. The Asgardians and Steve all accepted this change without comment, their own wartime experiences having shown them the benefit of taking over an enemy's position. If any of the non-warriors present felt conflicted at the idea, they did not raise a concern.

Tony also instructed Natasha and Steve to set up cameras further away, up to a full mile in each direction, to ensure total coverage of impending threats. If any members of the Ten Rings returned, they would know of their approach long before the forces arrived at their doorstep.

Jane Foster spoke excitedly with Loki, Tony and Bruce over a video conference, quizzing them on the properties of the ævi forn until Tony excused himself. Bruce remained, more intrigued by the conversation than troubled by the association. Loki remained as well, drinking in the knowledge Thor's diminutive woman offered up without a second though.

When the call ended, both men leaned back in their respective chairs. Bruce glanced at Loki and shook his head.

"I know you're up to something with all this," he said, and Loki raised his eyebrows in the picture of shocked association.

"I am educating myself on your sciences," Loki said.

"The ones you already educated yourself on before, to build a machine for the Tesseract,  _twice_? Those sciences? Yeah, I can see how it's been a real struggle for you to grasp these things."

Loki said nothing, thinking it wise to avoid self-incrimination.

"I don't know what you're up to, but you need to watch Tony," Bruce said. Loki blinked in surprise. "Yeah, I mean it. He can go too far without meaning to. He's reckless, and so are you." Bruce sighed. "I'm going to have to tell Thor."

"Don't tell Thor," Loki snapped out before he could stop himself. He balled his hand into a fist, which he thumped against the armrest of his chair. "It is a separate, unrelated project which he requested my assistance with. It is of no concern to you, Thor or anyone else."

"Loki -"

" _Do not tell Thor._ "

Tony returned, having been told by JARVIS that the call was over. "Learn anything new?" he asked as he entered, and Bruce looked at the holographic screen without comment. Tony glanced at Loki, glanced to the corner where the newly programmed camera watched them, and crossed his arms.

"JARVIS," the inventor muttered too quietly for mortal ears. " _Now._ "

The distant hum of electricity ceased. The lights shut down across the compound, plunging all of them into complete blackness.

* * *

_This is bad._

"You keep saying that. Wolf wolf wolf. I don't hear it anymore."

_I mean it this time._

Wade was ready to climb the walls. "Yeah, well, there's shit all I can do about it now."

_You should listen to me more often._

"Plot armor," he murmured. There were voices approaching. Or was it just once voice? Either way, he didn't want to know what they wanted.

"No one here likes me," he groused.

_That's because you're an asshole._

"I have all kinds of charm." He pulled the cot apart, tugging a metal bar straight from the frame.

_That was impressive._

"It's shitty metal." He reached for the door, felt for the handle with his fingers. It was too dark to see anything, but all that he needed to know was where to shove the metal bar through.

_Shove it all the way in._

"That's dirty," he said. "Say it again."

"At some point, you must tell me who it is you speak to," a harsh growl hissed from behind. Wade spun, aiming the bar where he'd heard the voice come from, and felt it connect with solid bone. There was a slight grunt, and then a laugh.

_Not the throat again._

"It's getting old -" Words became hard when air became limited, and Wade began hitting the form, over and over again over what must be his head.

_This is really, really bad,_

"I made you a pledge," the voice rasped, dangerously close to insanity. Green light flared and he could see the sunken face glaring at him, the rage burning deep inside the eyes. "Do you remember? I hope it made an impression. I intend to honor it."

Wade dropped the metal bar, dented from all of his efforts and apparently worthless in this fight.

_Is it a fight if you lose immediately?_

"Shut up," he choked when the fingers loosened..

_Not polite._

"It wasn't personal," he said again. "Honest."

"Unfortunately for you, Mr. Wilson," the mad god rasped, "this is."

* * *

Tony calmed everyone via their earpieces, insisting that this was a minor setback and JARVIS would have everything sorted quickly. Within ten minutes, the power hummed back to life and brought all systems along with it. JARVIS reported all systems online, and then broke the news which jarred each team member in their respective locations.

"He escaped?" Natasha's voice sounded strained, angry. "That door wasn't electronically sealed. It was a traditional lock."

"I'm here now," Steve said through the link. "It looks damaged. He must've kicked his way out."

"Good thing we have new cameras," Tony said. "JARVIS, location?"

"He is not present within the compound, sir."

"Where outside, then?"

"I cannot locate Mr. Wilson on any video feed," JARVIS said.

Silence. Tony felt sweat rolling down his back.

"I'll take the east," Steve said. "We need to find him." He divided the group into sections. As they began their search, a younger, feminine voice rolled through their ears.

"Guys, it's Jane? JARVIS said he could patch me through," she said.

"We're here," Steve said.

"There's something weird in my readings here," the young scientist said. She sounded nervous and disappointed. Tony braced himself and wiped his brow.

"What is it, Foster?" he asked. He liked how stable he sounded.

"The time pocket," Jane's voice said. "If I'm reading this right - it's gone. Did something happen?"

"Power outage," Tony hedged. "There was a circuit I didn't quite connect."

Jane's disembodied voice sighed. "Well, apparently it took that pocket with it. I have readings to work on now, but I won't be able to get anymore."

_Good_ , Tony thought. Out loud, he said, "Aw, damn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Let me know any grammar/spelling issues you see, I did not edit this thoroughly before posting. The season 2 finale of Hannibal filled me with pain, which I decided to exorcise via writing. For anyone reading who hasn't seen that show, you really should watch it.


	14. Counter

The search, of course, proved futile.

Stark made a show of flying high and circling the area, using JARVIS to scan and detect any warm-blooded beast. Several goats and smaller rodents stirred at the disturbance on the otherwise peaceful mountainside, and when Tony returned to the compound, the remaining Avengers

Loki remained within the compound, in Thor's line of sight at all times. It turned out to be a useless endeavor; the assassin had a reputation of easy escape, and was assumed to have slipped out using the black-out as cover.

Bruce had taken the original vials of the assassin's blood, which he kept within the cooler he'd found them while Tony fitted a full laboratory within the compound. He poured over Lynn's notes and added his own, writing out ideas to test, hypotheses to try, and simple assays to perform.

Steve and Natasha watched the news and other media outlets for signs of tracking or outrage directed at the Avengers. Natasha appeared before Congress and spoke her piece before pulling away entirely from the public; Clint remained hidden, and Steve remained far from his home country for the sole purpose of watching his team.

It was all he had now, and he intended the team to stay strong.

Tony watched other outlets for signs of the Ten Rings resurfacing, while directing Pepper to keep their U.S. companies focused on squashing as much of Hydra's side projects as possible. They were being rooted out, but slowly, and some were more deeply entrenched than any of them expected. Pepper began calling it the mole hunt, and the others took on the phrase without thought.

Thor stayed near his brother, and pulled him aside once to check on him. Loki assured him that he was fine, and had discussed a date of return for Lynn's corpse and subsequent burial. The only ones in attendance would be those within the compound itself, which made arrangements easier to manage.

Jane cried bitterly when she was told the news, and Pepper signed off without further comment to mourn alone.

Bruce called several connections he had met during his time working on the Ridley strain with Lynn to discuss the latest developments, and toss ideas back and forth. He spoke at length with a tissue cultures researcher, who gave him pointers and tips for methods to start with, and how to make the samples they had last as long as possible. Bruce shared all of the information he dared before cutting the connection, fearful of tracing despite Tony's repeated assurances that it couldn't happen.

He enlisted Barton and Natasha as his lab helpers, banishing Tony on that basis that the man would waste too much testing every possibility. The two assassins learned quickly and fell into an easy rhythm with Banner, who directed them with a calm assurance he otherwise never displayed.

When the United Nations declared a global epidemic, Steve assembled them inside of the conference room and broke the news as gently as he knew how. Most of them nodded, having been watching the news feeds as updates arose. Thor expressed worry for Jane's safety, and Tony agreed to fly her and Pepper to the compound immediately, to assuage fears. Sif placed a hand on Steve's shoulder, and he offered her a tired smile.

Loki tightened his mouth and said nothing.

They broke to return to their respective quarters or tasks, and Loki, by choice, walked alone.

* * *

He entered the ævi forn with sleight of hand, the entrance now concealed by his seiðr. There, inside the barrier in an empty room, sat the assassin. He was cross-legged on the floor, chin resting inside of a hand as he bounced some sort of toy against the ground and caught it, over and over, talking to himself.

Loki dropped his seiðr to let himself be seen, and the man brightened at the sight of company.

"Hey, check it out! The solution to all my boredom."

He stood and dusted his suit clean of debris. "Yeah, so?" he said to no one in particular, and Loki was already sick of him.

He reached forward, pressed his hand against the barrier, and pushed himself through.

"Hey, uh, how?" The man skipped back, hands, up. "We played this game, remember? It's nothing personal, but I  _can't lose_."

"Wade Wilson, isn't it?" Loki asked, ignoring his assertion. Wade groaned.

"Why doesn't anyone here call me  _Deadpool?_  It's a great name!" After a moment, to no one, he added, "Yes it is!"

"You cannot lose - that's your claim? Very bold, and rash. Are you certain, Wade?"

"I guess that depends on the real question here," Wade said. "I never had one of those," he added.

"It is one question, to which I already know the answer."

"Then why waste time asking? That seems stupid. Isn't he supposed to be the  _smart_  brother?"

Loki clasped his hands behind his back.

"Is it true that Death is in love with you?" he asked. He watched for the reaction, uncertain of how closely guarded a secret this might be. Wade brightened and raised both thumbs.

"She totally wants me," he said easily, "and I can't die. It's all forbidden and sad. Like Buffy."

"That is promising," Loki said.

"That doesn't sound good," Wade said. "He sounds all sure and evil."

Loki raised both hands; the glamour rose with his gesture, and instruments appeared within the room. Aluminum and titanium canisters with tubes emerging, stacked against the wall. That same wall full of varied tools at his disposal.

A chair, with metal bands.

"Definitely bad," Wade said. "Look, I really  _liked_  Lynn - nicest dame I ever met - wouldn't hurt a fly? -"

"I told you I would kill you," Loki said, again ignoring him. "But now I have a goal. Does that make it better or worse, I wonder? More's the pity for you - I do not care."

"Hey, if you're going to try to hurt  _my_  girl because I might've sort've accidentally was a little involved in  _your_  girl dying, I think you should know that's  _not very fair,_ " Wade said. "Also, you can't really hurt her."

"Not physically, perhaps," Loki said, and drove a powerful fist into the man's sternum. He heard the snap of bone, the wheeze of punctured lungs, and felt satisfaction. He wondered what they might look like spread and bent back - the blood eagle, it had been called. He hadn't seen one properly displayed in too long.

"I have a better use for your pain. You will see her again, and again, and there will come a time when you will beg for release," Loki said as he stepped closer. "She is the only ear who will listen. How many times until you beg her for anything to release you from what I have done? How many times until she agrees?"

"She likes flowers," Wade said, his fists clenched at his chest. Already the bones were healing; Loki could hear them mending. "She's not really impressed by torture and shit. She sees it all the time. Desensitized by the media. Video games, man, I always told her they'd ruin her -"

"Be silent," Loki said, waving a hand over the man's throat. He opened his mouth to speak; no sound emerged. Loki smiled at his affronted glare.

"I have finally found a way to anger you," he said.

"Now," Loki said. "How much can you bear before this body of yours gives out?"

Holding the man in one place with his hand, he pulled a knife from his coat, a long straight edge honed to a fine point, and began to peel.


	15. Crunch

"I have learned something interesting," Loki commented later. The hunched over figure gurgled past the tongue dangling not from his mouth, but his throat. Loki patted the tongue with a soft, kind smile.

"You should listen," he said, and fingered his knife. "Time passes differently in an ævi forn. We may pass days outside, while only hours pass within. I have some measure of control, now - I worked my seiðr inside, threaded it through, and now this pocket bends to  _my_ will."

He did not want to hold on to the knife any longer, and so he stabbed it into the flesh gurgling at his side.

"There is something else," he said. "I was told of your escapism - you have a gift, it seems. You should know, then, that I have prepared for the inevitable. These metal bands are not Midgardian. They are Asgardian binds tempered by Stark himself, under the guidance of Thor."

It was only half a lie.

"And besides," he continued, "there is only one way to escape this place, Wade." He said kindly, as though gently chiding a small child. He stroked the man's head. "It is temporary for you, I think, but no less an escape. You can go there now, should you wish. I will not stop you.

"Or you can remain." Loki pulled free the knife and paused to hear the grunt of pain. "I enjoy your company, now that you are silent."

Loki looked to the side, where once-clear tubes filled with red liquid drained into one of the canisters. Tony had approximated ten pints, on account of the man's healing abilities. The tank was nearly full, and only now did the assassin's breathing begin to waver.

"Be silent," murmured the trickster, tapping the metal edge of the knife against an exposed rib. "Be still."

And finally, the assassin was.

* * *

Tony dazzled them all with a concocted story involving JARVIS, artificial serum and the miracle of cloning. Only Natasha gave him a wary look, and one glance at Barton kept her thoughts unvoiced.

* * *

Barton was angry with himself.

He'd stood, bold as brass, and told one of the two men responsible for remaking the entire universe that once a human died, they stayed dead.

It might've been true once, before Thor held the Infinity Gauntlet and let Loki guide his actions. Now, there was no telling what either brother was capable of, and as much as Thor seemed to have a handle on Loki's personality, the trickster had always held the some control over Thor.

Clint already knew where to find Loki, and stepped into Lynn's resting place with business on the mind. He glanced at the body lying prone on the cot, then turned his full attention to the tall figure standing at her side which had turned at his entrance.

"I want to know what you're doing." Clint crossed his arms, which bunched his muscles. Loki raised both eyebrows.

"I do not understand -"

"Cut that. I know better. I know what you and your brother can do. I stood here and told you humans stay dead, like an idiot - you and your brother proved me wrong once. I know you're trying to do it again."

Loki looked down at the small figure on the bed, encased in his seiðr and unable to comment on the goings-on in front of her. He thought she might have strong opinions about his goals, even stronger about his methods. He found himself suddenly and powerfully overcome with the longing to hear her voice, her thoughts, her ornery stubborn refusal to compromise with him. He recognized the emotion as dangerous, and his voice dropped low in response.

"It would be wise to leave the room now, Barton."

Barton did not leave. Instead, he stepped closer to Lynn's corpse and sat down in the chair next to the cot. He reached out a hand for hers, and paused at the low growl which rumbled through the room.

He withdrew his hand without comment, and settled back in the chair to simply look at her.

"She deserved better," he said, and Loki realized that Barton was trying to show solidarity. He did not know how to react.

"It is dangerous to us?" Clint asked. The only responses left were either some form of disclosure, or a blatant lie. Loki had not taken a chance on a comrade in many years; he was used to some manner of control, and grand, complicated schemes appealed to him. Barton would know this - he'd participated in one such scheme, successfully. He knew better than any of the others present how Loki's mind twisted, and the best ways to wrangle the trickster into what he wanted.

He simply asked, and Loki supplied. The trickster was rarely one for small, subtle gestures.

"No," he said, "it is no danger to you and yours. It may in fact lead to a cure for the ailment which plagues your species."

"You have him," Clint said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"The blood Tony's been supplying."

"Straight from the source," Loki said.

"So he's alive."

"I have discovered that he can die for brief periods. Perhaps longer, depending on what I do."

Loki didn't clarify what he'd done, and Clint didn't care enough to ask.

"Who else knows?"

"Stark is the only other who knows of this, Barton."

Clint glanced to the side, at the door which led to the hallway. He pursed his lips as he thought this information over and under, sideways, up and down. None of it seemed like a good thing, and yet he didn't feel any urge to try and stop this.

It probably made him a terrible person.

"Thor doesn't know," he said, for vocal confirmation. Another statement rather than a question, and Loki gave no reaction. It was enough.

"Alright," Clint said, "I won't tell anyone about this. Tell me the cover story details so that we all match."

It was this moment that Loki would remember later as the moment he began to consider Clint an ally.

* * *

Life was boring.

Intellectually, Lynn understood that something was wrong. She closed her eyes and opened them in the same space as before, lying on the floor inside of the prison, alone. She had pushed herself to her feet and checked every nook and cranny for some clue as to her location. Everything was recognizably similar, yet something crucial was missing from the very air itself. Some sense of weight, of the passage of time.

No one was coming to get her.

At first she had tried to find a way out, but the barrier held fast and there were no doors in this room. She tried to scratch messages into the wall in the hopes that they might get through elsewhere. The messages stayed, and she realized that she'd been left where she died.

She would have been offended that they had taken Wade but not her body, but she remembered Loki's face before she lost vision. Of course he would leave her behind. He was finally rid of her.

She knew that a long time had passed, alone in this room, and she was starting to lose what little self-control she'd managed to maintain over the days trapped here. She found herself clawing uselessly at the walls, throwing a bottle of acid against the barrier, touching a drop of bleach against her tongue. It tasted like water, and she realized that not only was she alone, she also wasn't getting out of this so easily.

She was lying on the ground, staring dazed at the ceiling, when a voice broke through her haze.

"Hey babe."

Lynn whipped to sitting and stared at Wade, who stood with his arms crossed in the center of the room. The rest of her brain caught up a moment later, and she realized he had rolled up the mask enough to reveal his mouth, so that he could take a bite of -

"What the hell are you doing?!" She rushed over and snapped the food -  _a taco, really? -_ out of his hand.

"Hey-"

"Do  _not_  eat inside of this room!" She stormed around him and threw the taco on the ground, ignoring the prickle which warned her not to turn her back on him. The man could use swords and guns and had a mouth the size of Wisconsin. If he wanted to kill her, there wasn't much she could do to stop him.

Belatedly she remembered that death wasn't much of a concern anymore.

"Wait," he said. "I'm the guy who kidnapped you like, a week ago. You remember that, right?"

She stared at him, her pupils dilated with fear.

"And you're trying to save me from the big bad bug?"

"I remember how it felt," she said. "I wouldn't wish this thing on anyone." She turned to press her hands against the barrier. He followed her while pulling his mask back in place.

"I'm having trouble with your character motivation here, babe."

"What?" She ignored it with a wave of her hand. "Don't call me 'babe'."

"Sure, darlin'."

"Ugh," she said. She beat a fist against the glass. "What's going on?"

"First you need to apologize to me," Wade said. He sounded smug.

"For what?"

"You didn't mention that your boyfriend is a  _raging asshole_ ," he said. He was sitting cross-legged on the cot; she noticed flecks of dirt falling from his boots to the blanket.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she said.

"He's a boy and he sure thinks he's your friend, so I say it counts." Wade rested his chin in one palm. "Ah, young love!"

"I am  _not_  in love. I don't even like him most of the time." Lynn began pacing as she realized he'd managed to divert her from more relevant questions. "How did you get here? And where are we?"

"Whoa, babe. Slow your roll."

"Don't call me that!" she snapped, her knuckles white against her elbows. "I've asked you nicely. And then you do it again. If you're going to be a jerk, at least commit to it!"

"You can't improve perfection," he said. Lynn flailed a hand at him and turned away in anger.

"She doesn't know," he said to no one. "Huh."

"Know what?" she asked.

"You're dead, babe." Wade gestured to the room around them. "I'm dead too, but I don't stay dead like most folks."

"This is it, isn't it?" she said, looking up at the ceiling. "The great mystery or whatever. When we die, what? We just hang around where we died?" She laughed; it sounded desperate. She covered her face with one hand and swallowed a sob.

"Not usually, no," Wade said. She dropped her hand and looked at him. "Usually my girl comes and gets ya, takes ya wherever. But here you are."

She shook her head; she didn't understand.

"The boy who's your friend changed the room up. He's made it so his will or whatever is part of all of this - and my guess is, his will is that you  _not_  be dead."

"He doesn't care about that," Lynn said in confusion. "He doesn't give a shit."

"Yeah, well, my upturned ribcage says otherwise. And also,  _ow_. Your guy's a real jackass, did I mention that?"

"He's not -" Lynn took a deep breath and decided to fight that battle later. "So he's holding me here somehow."

"Fuck if I know how, and  _fuck_  if I care why. Boy, he'll sure be happy to know you're still around. Maybe he'll do me a favor and  _not_  kill me horribly again."

Lynn stared at him and said nothing.

"Oh yeah," Wade said, "the guy who gives no shits about you mutilated me right to death. It was refreshing, you know? I haven't had a good nap in a while."

"Why," she said, and then couldn't continue.

"I know people, too," Wade said. "Now tell me something his chump ass knows only you would say."

* * *

"This is amazing," Bruce repeated for the sixth time, staring into the lenses of the microscope. "If Tony can make enough of this stuff, we're in business."

"What's that mean?" Barton asked, scraping at a culture under a fume hood. He was wearing a mask, lab coat and safety glasses, and he felt like an idiot.

"It means a treatment is doable," Bruce said. "I don't think it's a virus, so a vaccine will be hard."

Barton shook his head slightly, and Bruce sighed.

"I can send this off to labs around the world and everyone can work together to find the solution," he said. He managed to make it sound informative rather than condescending, but it took real effort on his part. Barton only nodded and went back to scraping.

"That sounds promising, Bruce," Natasha said from across the way. She was in the same outfit as Barton, though she managed more grace.

"It is," Bruce said, warming back up to his earlier excitement. "And once the Ridley strain is figured out, we can move on to other things. This stuff is like, like -"

"The Emerald City?" Barton offered.

"From the movie, yeah. It's better than stem cells; it's better than cloning. It's human blood that can withstand  _anything_. You get it?" Bruce reached to remove his glasses to clean them, remembering his own safety glasses too late. "This goes beyond microbes. We can, can cure cancer, maybe -"

"Mr. Banner, Mr. Stark would like to speak with you," JARVIS said overhead.

"What are you up to in there?" Tony's voice asked over the intercom.

"Saving the world," Natasha said.

"Good, because WHO just declared a Public Health Emergency of International Concern," Tony said.

"What does that mean?" Clint asked, setting his tools down inside of the hood.

"It means we need more serum," Bruce said to the air. The silence above them extended until he thought that Tony might've cut off the feed. Finally, they heard him speak again.

"How much do you think you'll need?" he asked.

"As much as you can make," Bruce said. "We need to start mailing it out to other labs so they can get to work."

"On it," Tony said, and a slight hiss signaled that the inventor was no longer listening.

"He didn't sound too happy about it," Natasha said.

"I'm sure he'll pull through," Clint said, and went back to work.


	16. Dealt

Wade wasn't stupid. He knew, as soon as his eyes popped open, that he had a limited amount of time before he would repeat an unpleasant experience.

_At least the jackass is gone._

He started to reply, and his tongue flopped uselessly against his throat. Strange feeling. Wade pinched the tip and folded the muscle in two. He reached inside of his mouth with his other hand, and threaded his tongue back inside of his mouth where it belonged. The muscle stitched itself nicely, and he tapped his throat and rotated his jaw with a grunt.

"Small wonders," he said, and looked down at himself. Next needed to be the ribs because otherwise, walking would be really awkward.

_Take a picture first, it'll look cool._

"It's not cool," he said, "it's itchy."

_I bet it'll be tricky too._

This  _would_  be tricky. They were all facing backwards, for one thing, like some kind of demented set of wings. With a sigh, he got to work rotating, pushing and resetting, only releasing the occasional grunt of effort when a rib poked into a lung, or pierced an intestine by accident. He adjusted, twisted his back to pop all of the bones back into position, took a deep breath, and shot a peace sign at the barrier. Not that anyone was there to see.

_Awesome even without an audience._

"How long's he been gone, anyway?"

_How should I know?_

"Only one of us is omniscient here." Wade poked at the chair rather than try to find a way out of the room. He tried to find mechanisms for release, and failing that, looked for ways to weaken the clamps in place. After several passes over the entire chair, he settled for hauling a metal canister up and beating it hard against the braces.

The metal hardly budged.

_It's that old Asgardian charm._

"They don't make'em like they used to," he said, and tossed the canister aside. "This sucks. I don't even have cable in here."

_You're missing Ellen._

"My whole life is a tragedy," he said.

"Who is it that you speak with?" Loki said from across the way. Wade waved a hand, dismissing the topic, and the trickster raised both eyebrows. He was looking the assassin over from head to toe, and appeared far more interested than perplexed.

_I bet he'll be impressed._

"Impressive," the trickster finally said, and Wade sighed.

"Always the wrong audience," he said. "What do you want, asshole?"

"I suppose I deserve that," Loki said. Wade snorted.

"Damn right you do," he said, crossing his arms. "You know, that shit  _hurts_."

_I think that's the point._

"That's the point," Loki said, and Wade rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I got that from your 'I am your worst nightmare' speech. Real intimidating. Honest."

_Is provoking an art form?_

"Probably should be," he said. The trickster only watched him. "Oh great, now I've bored him."

"Do you see who you speak with?" Loki asked, and Wade waved a hand again.

_Tell him I'm handsome._

"I don't like competition," Wade said. "Ask what you really want to or go away." He sat back in the chair and propped his feet against the downed canister.

Loki stood across from him, on the other side of the barrier, and watched him. After a few seconds, Wade groaned.

_Gosh, this is riveting._

"Tell me about it." Wade waved a hand. "Hello! Hello?"

_Maybe he's upset._

"Don't be sad, cupcake. I did die for a little bit." Wade tapped the side of his chest. "I mean, it hurt and everything."

"Perhaps not long enough," the trickster said. His eyes had drifted to the wall, filled with all manner of weapons which Wade was itching to try out.

_Oh! I get it._

"What?" Wade asked.

_Oh come on._

"Ohhhhh." He glanced at the weapons - all metal. Shiny, tempered Asgardian metal. He leaned forward and braced both elbows on his knees, grinning. "Came to faster than you liked, huh? Look, it hurts and all, but you gotta understand how  _fast_  -"

"Enough," Loki said. Wade scoffed. The weapons were with him, after all.

"Crazy fast," he continued, leaning back again. "Barely had enough time to say hi to your girl."

Loki tilted his head.

"God, is the blank stare the new evil thing? Can we get a little emotion here? I told her what a 'blood eagle' is. Should've seen her face." He mimicked shock, eyes and mouth wide, covered by his mask. "Man, her mouth was real wide, if you get my drift."

_Bet she could fit a lot in there._

"Heh," he said. Judging by the look on Loki's face, he got the drift alright.

"And your proof?" the trickster asked, apparently in no mood to waste time.

"Man." Wade grumbled. "Could've written a goddamned book. She wouldn't shut up. It wasn't anything cool, like 'sucks to your assmar,' either. How much history you got, anyway? Something about dinosaurs? Dinosaur aliens are the worst, right?"

_Wrong plotline._

"Right. A big tree? Look, Ferngully sounds great and all, but I just remember the part I thought was funny."

Loki had stepped closer, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

_You can't play a player._

"With that hair? Come on, this guy's no player. Lean closer, dude. No, closer. Oh get in here for cripes' sake, this is boring."

The trickster stepped inside of the barrier, and Wade raised both hands to signal no threat. Of course, it was a lie. He was backing toward the wall, and Loki was stepping closer.

"See, she was real mad, and she said she wasn't saying sorry. Not ever. How about that for gratitude? I guess she figures it's all your fault."

"She is obstinate," the trickster said. His fingers were starting to twitch, and Wade wasn't about to wait to see what that meant. He slammed a hand back, grabbed the first sharp edge he found, and dove forward.

* * *

Steve watched the night sky, lying back against the cold earth, hands clasped on his chest. There was no light pollution on the side of the mountain; the entire compound was housed within, hidden from all surveillance by Tony's technology.

"It is hard to lack a directive," Sif said from beside him. She was not lying down, preferring to sit with her legs crossed underneath her. She was looking out across Midgard rather than up at the sky, having seen finer skies in her own home world.

"Especially for a soldier," he said with a small smile. "You seem to do fine when you're not on missions."

"I have more experience than you." She opened a plastic container, filled to the brim with steaming penne pasta. She set it between them, and Steve reached a lazy hand over and picked a piece with his fingers.

"No sauce?" he asked as he inspected the boiled noodle.

"Tony insisted that salt is enough," Sif said. Steve chuckled and ate, and Sif tasted a piece herself. It was a strange consistency, wet and sharp where the flakes of salt had landed. She rested the top gently over the bowl to keep dirt from blowing inside of their meal. As each of them reached for pieces, the lid clicked and shifted under their hands.

"You think something is wrong," Sif said to the mountains in the distance. She felt Steve's sigh through their shared fingers in the bowl.

"I've gotten better at being able to tell when people are lying to me," he said.

"Loki, and who else?" She always assumed Loki was involved. He was starting to realize how wise of a decision that was.

"Tony. Maybe Clint."

"Not Natasha?"

"No." Steve pushed himself to sitting and drew his knees up to rest his elbows against them. "She'd tell me."

"She was a spy, wasn't she?" Steve realized that Sif was using the same tone she often used when speaking of Loki's exploits. "Are you certain she wouldn't lie to you?"

"That's not what I said." His hands clenched around each other. "She'd tell me this, though."

"What is it you suspect?" Sif asked. She turned from the mountains to regard her friend, whose face was shadowed in the darkness around them. "You suspect something specific, don't you?"

"You should be a detective," Steve said. Sif creased her brow and he nodded. "An investigator - they look into crimes and solve them. You'd be good at it."

"I was raised with the Liesmith," she said. "I learned how to ask the right questions."

"Then maybe you can help me." Steve took a handful of noodles and began throwing them down the side of the mountain, thinking of the scattered birds he saw during the day. "I can't ask Natasha."

"Tony doesn't trust her, and Barton knows her tricks," Sif said.

"You have a way of summarizing," he said with a smile. Sif laughed.

"I learned to be direct," she said. "All of my friends were men."

"Thor can't do it either," Steve said. Sif looked off into the distance again. She wanted to discuss his suspicions further, but Steve was starting to close off from her, to draw his emotions into a tight ball which he could place upon a high mental shelf to inspect at a later date.

"Tell me of your friend," she said instead.

"I don't know what's happened to him." Steve threw another bit of pasta into the darkness. She heard it land several dozen yards away. "He's different now."

"Tell me about him before."

Steve tried to name the pain which clutched at his chest, and instead focused on the better memories her question brought to the surface.

"We grew up together," he said. "He was my brother."

"You fought in a war together?"

"Yes," Steve said. "He fell during one of our missions - I thought he died."

"Tell me about training together," Sif said, drawing him from darker thoughts. Steve laughed.

"You wouldn't recognize me then." Steve tapped a bicep and gave her a slight smile. "I sure didn't have these."

"You've said you were very small."

"I grew a couple of feet after the serum," he said. "I'll show you my file sometime."

Their similarities stacked between them. Sif had never felt such camaraderie with Thor or the Warriors Three, because all of them had been born to their stations. She had struggled for acceptance as Steve had struggled, and it was a relief not to have to explain herself.

"Is that something you would like me to see?" she asked, and Steve looked at her with raised eyebrows. "We have known each other for years, Steve, and you have yet to show me this file. I would not be offended if you would rather I not see."

"It's not that I'm embarrassed," he started, and she laughed.

"I would rather you never see my time as a young warrior, before I knew the sharp end from the pommel of a sword. We are all awkward in our youth."

"I was never awkward," Steve said with some false haughtiness, and she laughed at his posturing. He grinned, and she took heart that the dark thoughts were pushed away.

* * *

Thor was keeping himself isolated from the others, to a degree. He did not seek any of his comrades out, preferring to haunt the less-used hallways as he strolled and contemplated his potential actions. Now, he was sat in front of a monitor which Tony had installed within his personal quarters, the screen size large enough for him to touch without struggling to angle his large fingers into the proper alignment. Tony had gone through two physical touch screens before he decided to offer the thunderer the same holographic set up which Banner preferred in the event of an emergency.

Now he waved a finger into an icon shaped as a camera, then tapped on Jane's face. An odd beeping cadence filled the room, and then the image of a blank wall appeared.

"Hold on, I'm coming!" Jane's voice called from the side. Thor smiled, fond of how every call began this way, as though he were always interrupting a series of crucial activities. In a moment Jane herself appeared in frame, looking flustered and hurried. She sat and beamed at him through the flickering bright image, and he felt his heart lift at sight of her.

"My dear lady Jane," he said, and she laughed.

"I've told you to stop doing that!" Jane covered her face with both hands, amused and embarrassed.

"It is your reaction that encourages me," he said.

They spoke of simple things, and she provided updates on her strange collection of interns. She was isolated from the virus on Tony's dime; her entire team had been transported to Antarctica, which had taken an aggressive approach to approving travelling scientists for study. Discovery of the time pockets had inspired her in her other work, and her entire bearing jittered with unspent energy as she discussed the possibilities of creating a bridge between the worlds.

He was loathe to guide her away from the topic she so loved, but he could hardly follow some of her jargon and knew her time would be better spent in the company of the scientists surrounding her there.

"Jane, I wish to ask you a question." Thor maintained an upbeat demeanor, though his thoughts began to spin with imagined possibilities.

"Sure, of course!" She was looking down and writing, her mind forever fluttering with ideas which she didn't want to lose. He longed to touch her face.

"The time portal - are you certain it is gone?"

She nodded, not looking up. "The data's clear. Here - JARVIS, can you pull up 35562?" The requested file took over the view, and he followed the indicated lines obediently.

"See that dip in the line, there at 2400? That's when it vanished - the power outage. I'm not sure how it was maintained, but that outage must've taken out the device."

"And this line means what?" Though she couldn't see him, she could see the indicated line turn bold and brighten when his finger touched it.

"That's the overall power of the compound. The dip goes to zero, then comes back up."

"To the same level," Thor said. The abrupt silence surprised him; the image vanished behind the waved palm of Jane's hand, and she sat blinking at him, mouth open and eyes wide.

"Thor -"

"I don't know," he said in answer to her upcoming question.

"He said he could make a time pocket - he knows how to control them." Jane groaned and pressed a palm to her forehead. "You think he's up to something?"

Thor nodded and leaned back in his chair, taking advantage of the singular audience of a woman who fancied him to slouch.

"Something  _bad_?"

Thor explained about the assassin's abilities, and the potential indicated in Lynn Creed's notebook. Jane listened closely, enraptured by the possibilities, and he saw the same painful flinch in her eyes as in Banner's - the trade-off, though valuable, could not be justified by either of them.

Tony lacked that glint of guilt and shame, and Thor had more evidence to discuss.

"There is also the matter of the blood," he said slowly. "Tony claims he is synthesizing false blood which mimics the abilities needed."

"That's...well, it's  _Tony_ , I won't say it's not possible yet -"

"It smells the same."

Jane leaned back. This was a side of Thor which she only saw on occasion, the warrior who knew the taste and smell of blood spilled on a battlefield.

"Exactly the same?" she asked. Thor appreciated that she did not shy away from the topic.

"Exactly. There is no difference that I can see in the blood provided now, and what came before."

"You think they have him somewhere," Jane said. Her face was pale, that same stinging emotion now overwhelmingly intense. She was ashamed on behalf of another, and Thor thought that perhaps he should not have included her in his suspicions.

"Thor, that's...really awful. It's inhumane!"

"Steve, Sif and Banner agree. I am not certain of the others."

And one of those others had infinite funds at his disposal, and less than a full moral code.

"You want me to try and find it again," Jane said suddenly. Thor couldn't stop the bright smile which spread across his face; Jane's cleverness would forever be attractive to him, and he wished she were present so that he could wrap her in his arms and show proper appreciation.

"Alright, I'll work on it. But…" She glanced at the edges of the screen and pursed her lips. Thor nodded; JARVIS could not be considered an ally.

"...Wait. I can't. I've got so much to work on here, and keeping Darcy from hopping on the next plane out of here is taking up most of my free time. She  _hates_  the cold."

Thor sighed in disappointment. "Of course, Jane. You must focus on your work."

She nodded, met his eyes, and nodded again.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," she said, and disconnected the call.

* * *

"If you kill me, I'm  _cutting you off._ " Wade hauled a leg upward into the covered chest and shoved the heavy god back, barely enough for what he needed but enough to press the point of the Asgardian metal against the trickster's side. "No more jollies for you!"

Loki wished nothing more than to beat the man's head against the wall, repeatedly, until he no longer resembled a human. Unfortunately, he had not anticipated that Wade would find some way to make himself valuable.

The trickster shoved away from the hold, his greater strength a boon which he gladly exploited. The two of them glared at each other, at an impasse of wills, and the trickster could not kill him without losing the opportunity to gain more information.

He tilted his head back, clasped his hands in front of himself, and waited.

"No no," Wade said, "you have to actually ask questions. We're having a chat, like big kids do. The kind without mortal wounds."

"Amma Lynn is here," Loki said. He began a slow stroll, circling across to the side, closer to the barrier.

"Yeah. Rude, dude. You should really let her leave."

"I am not holding her here." Loki rounded, scowling. "Her body is contained elsewhere."

"You forgot something, idiot," Wade said, and paused as though listening to someone speak. "Oh fuck diplomacy. Look, you don't believe me and she ends up stuck here forever or something. I'm sure it'd be very tragic, like when you hold that one perfect bite of food on your plate and then someone reaches over and just  _takes_  it."

Loki tried not to respond to the man's rambling, more focused on the underlying message. "I will bring her body here, so that her spirit may return."

"Oh brother." Wade raised both hands in surrender. "She's not me, right? She's  _not_  me. You can shove her back in, and what's the problem, douche?" When Loki said nothing, he groaned. "Oh come  _on._  Think  _real hard._ "

The virus. It had to be. Loki had seen the signs of Wade's struggle upon waking; the floor was littered with blood and the occasional scraps of bone, where he'd broken them in order to allow new healing to set in instead. Unlike Wade, Lynn would awaken with all of the same issues she'd had previously, and she would be unable to heal herself.

The cure was crucial. Loki glanced at the chair, with its assorted tubes, and back at the assassin. Wade shifted the blade from one hand to another, recognizing that hungry look in the trickster's eyes.

"Can't we work out a deal or something?" he asked. Loki raised his glowing hands and smiled.

"No."


	17. Bench

The group gathered and sat within what Tony called the War Room, a term which made Bruce rolls his eyes and Steve clench his jaw. Sif took up a position leaning against a wall rather than sit at the table, and Clint joined her to watch from a bit of distance. She looked down at him and smiled, friendly and open. The archer nodded in return.

Thor sat across from his brother, who was steadily peeling the skin from an apple with a knife. Natasha sat on his left, and Tony took the head of the table and wiped his palms across the top in front of him. Steve sat with his arms cross, a glossy photo in front of him.

"Welp, here we are," the inventor said. "Worldwide plague rising up. Too bad it's not zombies."

"We narrowed our focus already," Bruce said. "Nat, Clint and I are all working on the bug. Are you ready to ship the plasma out?"

Tony, to his credit, did not once glance in Loki's direction.

"Yep," he said. "You just give me your BFF's addresses and off they go."

"There's something else we learned," Natasha said from beside Loki. The trickster offered her a small slice of the fruit he was torturing, and she accepted without hesitation. "Steve?"

Steve flipped the photo and slid it into the center of the table, so that they could all see. Thor and Loki exchanged a glance and remained still, knowing that stretching to see what was revealed would not enlighten either of them. Bruce squinted at the picture, and Sif reached to pick it up to examine it as though she could guess at the meaning any better.

Tony froze when he saw the image, and cursed once, loudly.

"Afzal is  _his_  son? Augh," and the inventor launched into a series of strained noises, each more distressed than the last.

"You didn't kill him directly," Natasha offered, which made Tony release a high-pitched laugh of desperation.

"God, don't cheer me up."

"You didn't," she persisted as she took up the photo of Abu Bakaar. "You just left him to die."

"Clearly, it worked out well." Tony was standing, the tension forced from his body as he circled the table. Steve watched him closely and realized that despite his reputation and his actions, he had never once heard the inventor comment on the people he killed, directly or indirectly.

Guilt was a terrible look on him.

"The Ten Rings is aligned with Hydra now," Steve said to Tony's clenched shoulders in an attempt to distract the man from the never-ending cesspool of depression. "They've starting sharing assets, financially."

Natasha nodded at the inventors raised eyebrows, confirming both that it was true and that she was the one who discovered this fact.

Loki let their words wash over him, his thoughts twisting into a facsimile of worry. SHIELD's downfall heralded a new age of unaccountability, as the final bastion against restraint collapsed and revealed its secrets to the world. That the Ten Rings, the very organization which led to the capture of this compound, was aligned with Hydra presented a boon and a curse. Though this consolidated the threats aimed at the people within this room, it also meant an expansion of resources and a targeted vendetta against Stark.

In much the same way, Hydra's existence meant a focus on the tall blond man who these mortals considered their leader. Steve somehow managed to look tired and ready for action at the same time, and Loki had no doubt that if a threat exploded into the room, the good captain would meet it head-on in a moment's notice with no thought to his own safety.

Bruce was a threat wherever he moved, which necessitated constant surveillance. The fact that he accepted Tony as a friend did not change the reality that Tony had installed cameras throughout the scientist's quarters. Clint and Natasha were host to a range of secrets and stealth missions, any one of which could come crashing down upon all of their ears.

Loki and his brother had accumulated their own enemies over the years, too numerous to count any longer. Even noble Sif, who lived her life fighting for the good of Asgard and her friends, claimed enemies within Asgardian society for her mere existence.

This room was full of dangerous elements and the possibilities of those that pursued them. Thor's woman Jane was secluded from their location to protect her, as was Tony's. None of the rest of them carried the burden of such attachments, save for a young mortal girl whose corpse now lay entombed within the compound.

Loki had sworn to his mother millennia ago to accept responsibility for Lynn's case, despite his misgivings. He had not shirked the duty, though he often resented it. Now, he regretted it, for there was only one way to preserve her life from these people, once it was won back from the finality of death.

He came upon a plan, simple and elegant, and thought it fortunate that of all those at the table, he was the best able to carry out the deed. When the discussions died down he stood to leave and found Thor at his side, walking with him out of the room and into the hallway, where the two strolled at equal speeds from old habit.

"Ask what you wish to ask, brother," Loki said. "I tire of your pining stares."

"What have you done with Wade Wilson?" the thunderer asked, and Loki pulled up in his stride to turn and tilt his head at his older brother. Thor stared back with reservation, as though expecting an outright denial.

Loki did not disappoint.

"I have done nothing with him," he trickster said. "Why do you ask me?"

"You forget that you are surrounded by those who know you best - we are not so easily fooled, Loki."

How wrong he was. Loki had no heart to correct him, but an argument was always a pleasure.

"Fooled? No. Perhaps blinded. You saw Stark's face, did you not? He wears shame like a cloak."

"Stark is a good man haunted by the terrible things he has done," Thor said.  _Unlike you_ , the air around them whispered.

"Ah, yes - the redeemed butcher. He bragged to me about his superior body count, you know. I felt challenged."

Thor didn't even have the grace to look worried. Loki felt tamed of a sudden, and wanted to lash at the bridle he felt pressing against his cheeks.

"You are planning to resurrect her, aren't you?" the thunderer asked, and Loki cursed the time spent together. He didn't enjoy how easily the thunderer could pluck his intentions from within the lies and distractions.

"Of course," he said. "Why wouldn't I consider it?"

"Loki, we cannot interrupt the natural order for our own whims," Thor said, the sage older brother sounding somewhat exasperated with Loki's unspoken optimism.

"Why is it different now, when before it was not?"

"One mortal is not the same -"

"And if it were Jane Foster?"

Thor pressed his lips into a tight line.

"That is not the same," he said slowly, peering at his younger brother with suspicion.

"No - but my point is made. I made a vow, and I will honor it."

"This has nothing to do with your vow, Loki," Thor said in sudden anger. "You are being stubborn, and that is all. You must let Lynn Creed go."

_But she is trapped_. Loki could not admit to this tidbit without also revealing the source. In another life, perhaps Thor's argument would have swayed him away from crazed delusion of conquering Death's design. Only one day previous, he might have considered abandoning his unspoken crusade.

All had changed at the revelation of Lynn's entrapment, and Loki could not abandon her to a fate of eternal lonely isolation.

"How would you suggest I do so, brother?" Loki asked.

"A project," the thunderer boomed. "I would ask for your help with Jane's work. It would appeal to you, brother."

"Show me," the trickster said, and Thor led him away.

* * *

Clint was fixing himself a sandwich when Sif found him. He offered to make her one as well, and she shook her head and waved her hand. He shrugged and finished his own, then leaned against the counter.

Sif realized that be refusing the food, she had removed her purpose inside of the mess hall. She quickly opened the cold storage and sought out a drink to justify her presence here.

"This malady is spreading quickly," she said as she closed the door and unscrewed the top from a bottle of water. "Steve is concerned that the cure will not be discovered in time."

"Bruce thinks we're close," the archer said between bites of sandwich. "He'd know better than me. I just do what he tells me."

"Stark does not seem as involved in the project," she said. Clint snorted quietly.

"Bruce kicked him out," he said. "He's no good without something mechanic to poke at. This is tiny stuff, microscopic - it's what Lynn was studying. It's why he asked her for help."

The relative lack of pain within that statement was a shining beacon. Sif sipped her water, considering how to continue. As with most things, she decided on a direct course to her objective.

"I would say her death is a shame, but I do not believe she will remain dead, if Loki has his way." Clint had stopped eating and raised his eyes to her, eyebrows scraping his hairline. "He and his brother remade the worlds, did they not? It seems that one small life would be an easy task."

"Yeah, well," Clint said. "I wouldn't know. I'm better at the other thing."

Sif was tempted to shake him and demand that he confess. Instead, she pulled the topic back around.

"If this disease claims more lives, I worry that your species will struggle to survive."

"Lay off the doom and gloom," Clint said with a laugh. "We'll figure it out. This thing isn't as bad as everything thinks. None of us have gotten sick so far."

"Should you have?" Sif asked, surprised at the sudden revelation. It was true - though she doubted Thor, Loki and herself were susceptible, none of the mortals suffered from this illness. Were Bruce's methods of containment so thorough? And yet, they had all spoken with the mercenary, who emerged from the very same room where Lynn was infected. Even more, they had all been present when Lynn's body was pulled from the room, and the exposure to the air within should have been enough to infect Natasha, Clint and Tony, if not the less mortal members of their group.

Sif was not a scientist as Banner or Stark, but she had educated herself about the spread of this disease by listening to the mortal news networks. It was airborne, and highly virulent.

She found herself buried in sudden shock at the revelation. That Bruce could work with the strain without an issue was unsurprising due to his inherent beastly protection. The same protections did not apply to Natasha or Clint, who had spent the most time now within the room with the deadliest pathogen on the planet.

Sif couldn't believe that the thin fabrics they wore while working could possibly protect them from an unseen danger. At the very least, it opened a myriad of questions which only Banner might suss through. She wasn't confident enough in her own knowledge to broach the topic without some form of confirmation.

"It's kind of weird, isn't it?" Clint was saying. "Thing spreads like a fire, but Lynn's the only one who got it here."

"You wear the suits," Sif said, and even to her ears the excuse was small and wavering.

"Yeah," Clint said. "I guess we do."

He had finished his sandwich, and wiped his hands on a paper towel before throwing it away.

"I know why you're here," Clint said, watching her. "Steve suspects something, doesn't he?"

Sif nearly sighed. The archer saw far too much for a mortal.

"Are his suspicions justified?" she asked, refusing to lower herself to the level of useless denial.

"Probably not," Clint said. "Tell him it's for the greater good. He'll understand."

To Sif's ears, it was exactly the wrong thing to say to the idealistic soldier - a call to arms, a warning disguised as a placation. She wondered, as the archer exited the mess hall, if that were not the intention all along.


	18. Wreak

"That's what he said? Exactly in those words?"

Steve and Sif were standing across from each other in a hallway, both with arms crossed. Sif had delivered the message in the exact wording given her, and watched as Steve's countenance darkened. Whatever memories those words encouraged, they were not meant to be relieving.

"It is. He knows that you suspect something, Steve."

Steve sighed. "That means I have reason to."

Sif nodded and raised her eyebrows.

"Clint. Loki. Tony...not Natasha. Definitely not Banner. Thor?" Steve looked at her, and she shook her head. Thor could not tolerate subterfuge for days, much to the consternation of his younger brother. "Not Thor. Clint and Loki, they wouldn't give it up for anything."

"Would Stark?"

Steve thought of Natasha, Clint and Fury. He had perhaps spent too much time in the company of assassins and spies. He glanced at Sif, who shook her head slightly.

"That is not your way," she said gently, and he nodded.

"He talks a lot," the soldier said. "Let's see if he blabs for us."

* * *

Natasha was in the lab, pipetting small dilutions of the strain onto blood agar. Plates from days before were lined up alongside her, with varying states of clearing within the agar as the strain caused cell lysis. There were two sets of blood used: one from the assassins, as the only fully human members of the team who hadn't had palladium poisoning at any time, and one from the serum Tony provided. Natasha used a fine tip marker to measure the progress of clearing on each, her mask puffing as she breathed in and out.

Bruce walked beside her and lifted a plate, holding it up to the lights above. "This is the serum?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes," she said. "That one is ours. Look at the difference in clearing."

Bruce held both plates up next to each other, and squinted at the agar filled with Wade Wilson's blood.. "There's hardly any."

"Look at these. I plated on them a week ago." Natasha handed him the plates, and Bruce shook his head in wonder. There was  _no_  clearing - as though the infection had never been introduced.

"Do you think it'll help?" Natasha asked, peering over his shoulder.

"I don't know," Bruce said as he set them both down. "It doesn't look like this assay is working. We'll need to try something else."

"If we figure it out, could it really make a difference?"

"It could do more than that," Bruce said. "If Tony can make enough, we could try transfusions."

"That'll need to be tested first," Natasha said. "Are you worried about publishing first?"

"God, no," Bruce said with a shudder. "I told Tony to ship it everywhere, as soon as possible. I'd rather we beat it back."

Tanks of the stuff had been shipped away to Bruce's connections at Tony's expense, with the inventor saying little about the cost. Bruce thought that sometimes it was worthwhile to have a billionaire in his back pocket.

"That's generous of you," Natasha said. Bruce could hear the smile in her voice, and realized she was attempting to tease him. He looked at her and smiled slightly.

This was the first time she'd been alone in a room with him since the attack on the helicarrier.

A tap on the lab door draw both of their eyes to the window, a sudden burst of dark color in a painfully white, sterile environment. Bruce raised his hands at her and she obediently paused, stepping to the side as he approached the double doors. The first set opened and he stepped into the changing room, raising his hands as both sets sealed on either side. A hissing sound accompanied a strong breeze of decontaminant, Bruce sealing his eyes shut behind his safety glasses to avoid free-floating chemicals.

He shed the suit, hung it along the rack and pulled the gloves from his hands with a click on each wrist. He washed his hands in the standing sink, dried them under the motion detector air dryer, and stepped out into the hallway.

"That is a quite the process," Sif said.

"You should've heard Clint the first time I made him do it," Bruce said with a pained smile. "I could've gotten a better reaction if I'd broken his hand."

"Surely not the right?"

"Good point." Bruce glanced to either side of the hallway, ever-alert for eavesdropping. An old habit he hadn't been able to break, despite the eavesdropper now being someone he trusted. "Where's Steve?" he asked, realizing that he'd rarely seen the Asgardian warrior without Steve nearby.

"He is speaking with Tony," Sif said. "May I ask you a question?"

That could open a lot of doors. Bruce nodded and braced himself for something awful and awkward.

"This strain," Sif began, and Bruce relaxed. "Why do you think it has not affected any of us?"

Bruce blinked and removed his glasses, rubbing the lenses with his shirt. "Ah, well, you and Loki and Thor are probably immune -"

"As are you, and possibly Steve," Sif finished. Bruce nodded. "But what of Stark? And Clint, or Natasha? They have no enhancements, as Steve does, do they?"

"Tony had the arc…" Bruce trailed off and shook his head. He knew Natasha and Clint might not be vulnerable; he'd just looked at plates which demonstrated as much. Both of them should have succumbed in some way at this point, considering the amount of exposure from their arrival to now. Bruce turned to look at the dressing room, which protected them from contamination moving in to out and vice-versa. But Natasha had spent a considerable amount of time with Lynn's body, and both of them had been more than exposed.

From what Wade told them, Lynn barely had enough time to inhale anything at all, and she'd already been a carrier by the time they arrived. It meant the room, her clothes, everything had been contaminated with the Ridley strain.

"...there's something here," Bruce said slowly. "We need a regular human's blood, someone not here. I'll talk to Tony, see what we can get shipped here to test."

"You can test mine as well," Sif said, and Bruce laughed. He raised his hands in surrender at her sharp look.

"No, it's nothing - I'm not laughing at you. We tried to draw blood from Thor. The needles just kept breaking."

Even after so much time, she often forgot the relative fragility of her companions.

"I understand," Sif said with a smile to demonstrate that all was forgiven. Bruce smiled in return, then spoke to the air where JARVIS listened, relaying his request to Tony.

* * *

Tony was welding while rock music blared in the background. Hot sparks shot out at all angles, occasionally singing the hair on his arms. He put the blowtorch down, tilted the canister to the side and checked that each piece was properly fitted. When he was satisfied, he pulled his safety goggles off and wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

"How many of these have you made?" Tony turned to see Steve walking around the table, staying a safe distance from the previously active sparks.

"A lot," Tony said with a short smile. "Banner wants this shit sent to every place ever. Just doin' what I'm told."

"And what else?" Steve stepped up to the workbench now that Tony wasn't soldering anything and braced both hands against the edge.

Tony grinned, a lopsided, charming look that worked on nearly everyone in the world except the man standing across from him. "Thor taught me how to temper Asgardian metals. He brought a bunch of coins that I'm still practicing on, and other stuff for larger things. Check this out."

Tony laid the canister against the bench and walked to another, where a gauntlet of his suit laid against the top. He turned it over to reveal the innards and pointed at the wrist.

"I've almost got the metallurgy down. I could make you a new shield."

"I like my shield fine," Steve said.

"You'd like a new one better," Tony said. "I won't even put my logo on it, just for you."

"Thanks," Steve said, and Tony beamed. "But I still like mine fine."

"Stick in the mud," Tony groused.

"What else?" Steve asked. Tony scratched the back of his neck and looked around the work room, visibly uncertain of what Steve might be referring to.

"I'm not telling you details about my love life," the inventor finally said. Steve couldn't help his short bark of awkward laughter.

"I wouldn't ask that," Steve said, and Tony grinned.

"Yeah I know, I just like how you make that face."

"Tony -"

"Steve."

Steve paused, a large jolt stuttering in his heart. As Tony assumed stance to peer at him, Steve couldn't help but see his old friend standing in his son's shoes, fixing him with his son's eyes. He sucked in a sharp breath of pain at the reminder, and pushed away from the bench to cross his arms. Tony, aware of the sudden tension, watched him with suspicious eyes.

Steve took a long, heavy breath and composed himself.

"I did shower this morning," Tony said with a smirk. Steve shook his head and waved his hand, signaling that he'd like the conversation to move. Tony broke from his position and Steve's memories were mercifully disrupted.

They stepped out of the work room together, and Tony clapped his shoulder and motioned down the hallway.

"To the barracks, huh? I need a shower. I smell like burning."

"They're nothing like barracks," Steve said as they walked. "You've practically made them condos."

"Spared no expense." Tony grinned. "Clint warned me you were coming. You should've sent Sif, she actually scares me."

"I don't want to scare you," Steve said. "That's why Nat's not here."

"I don't think I like you two bonding. It's not safe." Tony slapped the doorway above his quarters as he walked inside.

Steve felt intense anticipation eating away at his resolve. He needed to ask, soon, but he didn't know how to lead in. If Clint had warned Tony, he might already know what was going on.

"God, this is awkward," Tony suddenly said. "Just ask, Cap."

"What did Clint tell you?"

"That you think we've been bad." Tony held out both hands, palms down. "Rap across the knuckles oughta clear that up, right?"

"You've made forty-two of those canisters," Steve blurted. "Ten have been sent out, two are in the lab with Bruce."

Tony blinked, once, a rapid-fire sign of an impending lie. Steve fixed his eyes, which made the inventor twitch and turn away to idly clutch at drawers, seeking out a towel or night clothes. A handy excuse.

"Where are the other thirty, Tony?"

"Storage," he said distantly. "We're sending them as we fill them."

"Who's 'we?'" Steve pressed forward into Tony's personal space, and the inventor started to circle away to follow the line of the wall. Steve lifted a hand, which bumped into the center of Tony's chest, pushing the man back slightly.

"Tell me the truth," Steve said, calling upon as much of his ingrained righteousness as possible. He knew that Tony resented that aspect of his personality, but some level of the American-born engineer couldn't help respecting an American icon, and Tony had contracted for the military for too many years to dismiss a soldier.

"Look, just let the morally ambiguous guys do morally ambiguous things," Tony said. "We'll all be happier and healthier for it."

"Tell me what you've done," Steve said, flashes of his own past bursting through his brain. He remembered the moment he'd learned about the bombings of Japan, which Tony's father had been involved in; he remembered Tony's split-second decision to use the same technology against an entire alien fleet. Of all of them, Tony was the most capable of making the hard decisions based on the ends justifying the means - and Steve was the only representation of virtue who could condone such actions on the inventor's behalf.

Steve wasn't asking for the facts. He was asking for confession, an unburdening of one's soul for emotional release.

And with reddened eyes and tense shoulder, Tony confessed.

* * *

The project proved more stimulating than Loki expected, in large part due to the necessity of deception. He must appear to be helping while in fact hindering, and though he was not completely familiar with Jane's calculations and methods, he had learned much from working on and off with the physicist.

He also held the advantage of control over the ævi forn. Despite knowing that discovery would prove disastrous, he could not resist dangling the prospect of scientific achievement over the woman's head. He enjoyed how her entire countenance livened when the sensors focused on the compound began going haywire, sensing the impending release of odd energies which implicated the time pocket - only to drop back in her seat with a huff of frustration when those same sensors ceased all measurements simultaneously.

Loki's fingers twinged with green flecks of his seiðr, and he smiled.

"This is so frustrating!" Jane cried through the video link, sweeping a long line through a page of her notebook. "Nothing is working!"

"Perhaps there is nothing here," Loki ventured, only to be met with two matching glares - one from the woman in the screen, and the other from Thor, who stood to the side watching his interactions.

"Or not," Loki continued, and raised both hands in mock surrender. "My mistake."

"It could've been true about three minutes ago, but you saw those readings," Jane said. She had vanished from the screen, tinkering with one of her machines. Loki sat back and flexed his index finger; one of the sensors jumped in response, and Jane squeaked in excitement.

He had to admit, he was starting to see what his brother might appreciate in this mortal female.

"There!" she exclaimed, and swiped her hand across the display. This removed the video and replaced it with the twitching sensor, the levels of proton disruption suddenly jumping into critical levels. "This kind of thing should only happen in neutron spallation, with a target -"

Loki relaxed his finger, and the jumping waves died.

"It's fluctuating too much to get a solid hold, but I've got something to work with now," Jane said, and Loki narrowed his eyes. Perhaps he had played this game for too long.

"What is that, Jane?" Thor asked, stepping to his brother's side.

"Neutron scattering. That's traceable, I can work with that. That's a  _lot_  of potential, Loki. And if your magic causes it, that's how we'll work with it. There's only one place that happens at such a large scale, and you're not in Tennessee as far as I know."

"We are in the mountains," Thor supplied with a smile, and Jane's laugh indicated that she understood he was being unhelpful as a jest. Loki stood from his seat and straightened his vestments.

"Jane, do you still require my assistance?" the trickster asked. "I would like to retire - it is very late in our mountains."

"I could use it, but get some rest. We'll talk tomorrow. Thor?"

Thor replaced the trickster in the seat, and Loki left the room as soon as Thor gave his nod of approval. Time had suddenly grown far shorter than anticipated, if what Jane said were true - and Loki did not intend to waste a moment.

After the door sealed, Jane met Thor's eyes and nodded, once.

* * *

Loki could not take the risk of strolling, and cursed himself a fool. Jane was clever enough to realize that her readings indicated more than simple displacements in minuscule structures. No, she was witnessing displacement on a massive scale, and her mind was ripe to discover what all of this meant.

Despite knowing that he had two of the Avengers in league, at this very moment, Loki felt the building pressure in the air around him. Loki, the trickster god, knew that their collective deception was winding down; they would be discovered, and Loki had no intention of failing again.

He tore the door from Lynn's makeshift crypt to find the captain himself inside, dressed in full garb and bracing his shield. He stood before Lynn's body, and Loki could not stop the snarl which erupted from his throat.

"Clear away," he rasped, and stepped forward. Steve stayed put.

"You can't do this, Loki. It's done. This is wrong -"

The trickster's fist shot forward to slam dead center into the shield. His strength did not propel the captain backward, instead reflected back into his arm - but the burst of ice flaring across the shield  _did_ , adding weight rather than just momentum. Steve flew back against the wall behind Lynn's bed, and Loki pulled the body free before the soldier could collapse on top and cause more damage.

Lynn's body was loose with Loki's preservative seiðr, and Loki tossed the body over his shoulder, shaking his injured hand. He glanced down to see that all of his knuckles were split, and suspected a broken wrist as well.

Steve was climbing from the bed.

"Loki," he began, and the trickster reached into the air, yanked at the unseen roots, and stepped from existence.

* * *

"I lied," Tony said to Clint. He'd grabbed the archer and tugged him into a hidden corner, ordering JARVIS not to record this conversation.

"What did you tell him?" Clint glanced to the side down the hallway at the sound of running footsteps.

"Something about transfusions to save Lynn, that kind of bullshit." At Clint's odd look, he shrugged. "He believed it; he went to stand guard over Lynn's body."

"Where's Loki?"

"Science flirting with Jane. Now look -"

"Everyone!" Steve's voice crackled over the intercoms, and Tony jolted. Clint merely looked up at the walls. "Loki's taken Lynn's body - find him!"

"You ok, Cap?" Bruce's voice called, worry cramping his vowels.

"Fine - just find him, fast. He's trying to raise the dead."

"Is that bad?" Natasha's voice rang clear and true across the hallways. Clint smiled faintly; Tony creased his brow. "Do we want to stop him?"

"You do not wish to encounter a draugr," Thor said now, with Jane's muffled voice in the background. "It does not end well."

"Is that like a zombie?" Tony asked, and Bruce supplied a definition when Thor asked.

"Similar," the thunderer decided, and Tony felt the hairs on his arms raise. Dead was  _dead_ ; raising the dead was impossible.

So were half of the things Loki did on a normal day. Impossible had taken on a new definition.

"That little shit," Tony said, "he  _lied_  to me."

"You didn't know?" Clint asked, eyebrows raised high enough that Tony realized he'd been the only one too slow to recognize Loki's real intentions.

"No! I thought we bonded over revenge, not - what does he think he is, a voodoo priestess?"

"He thinks he's a god," Clint said, and Tony groaned.

* * *

"Time runs short, Mr. Wilson," Loki said as he appeared within the ævi forn. He settled the body over his shoulder into the chair; at his side, Wade Wilson looked up with wide eyes and paused in the middle of eating stew with his bare fingers.

"Why would I help?" the mercenary asked, licking his bare fingers clean with his tongue.

"To avoid further pain," the trickster rasped angrily. He began to advance, and Wade raised a hand to stop him.

"Come  _on_ , dude, we did this dance. You hit me lots of times, I heal, you hit me some more, I heal. It got old the third time."

Loki grabbed the hand and yanked the man to his feet, then continued the spin and slammed the mercenary bodily into the wall.

"I wish to request your assistance with something, Mr. Wilson." Loki said. "I do not have time for your mouth."

Wade pushed himself back to his feet and popped his shoulder back into joint.

"You and your girl have a weird blind spot for me," Wade said. "I guess I should take advantage."

He looked at the body in the chair, and pulled down his mask before approaching.

"Hey, it's that girl," he said. A low growl drew his attention up. "How you gonna do this?"

"This place is ruled by my will," the trickster said as his power grew. In the small, contained space, the air crackled and sparked with energies as the trickster gathered what he could from the core of his being. The room shifted and swayed with unspent energies; electricity crackled.

"You're gonna Frankenstein her up?" Wade said. "That's pretty cool."

Loki gestured to the body on the chair. His eyes were livid with power; the air around his body warped. "I will call upon her to draw her back - that is my birthright. Once she is awake, I need your assistance."

Wade was having trouble breathing; the air was too hot to pull a proper breath, and it felt like a hurricane was buffeting his mouth.

"With what?" He barely managed the question, and cupped both hands over his mouth to try and catch a proper breath.

"She will do as I command." Loki was wild and untamed; his skin rippled blue to pale and back, and he funneled the energies around him into form. As he pulled, the room wavered and began to unwind, the concealments failing as the trickster released it from his moorings.

Distantly, Jane's sensors shot to life all at once, and Thor tore from the room.

Wade yelled into the air. "I only knew her a  _week_  and I can tell you she's too stubborn to do  _shit_ you say."

"I have a way." Loki's voice was everywhere, having become the hurricane. The trickster's own form wavered at the build-up of powers, and he himself flickered from existence in between moments of terrible clarity. "But I will need your cooperation."

"Yeah right," Wade yelled. "Good luck with that."

The seiðr surged forward - not into Lynn's inert form, but into the mercenary's chest, bursting his lungs and heart in one swift shot of raw, concentrated power to force an enduring death. The mercenary fell, his chest erupted from and leaking from both sides; the death would last long enough for Loki's needs, and the trickster collapsed to the floor and clawed at his broken wrist in pain.

_She is not safe so long as she associates with the Avengers, myself - any of us. She must detach herself completely from our presence._

He flickered again, saw the in-between - flickered once more, reached for the branches of Yggdrasil's children and wound them around his own throat as a noose.

_She must learn that there is no one to trust._

He frayed the edge of the roots as they tightened. The released edges pressed into his skin, deep into his veins and grew. Blood, his own blood - it fed them and housed them, and he cried at the pain.

_I will honor my oath. I will not fail._

As the roots found their way into his heart and began to bore inside, the trickster collapsed to the ground with a final gasping sigh.

 


	19. Curtain Call

Lynn was standing in the center of her tiny prison when the world exploded.

She was vaguely aware of the sudden appearance of Wade, who flew into her reality to flop against a wall with a wet  _crunch_. The mercenary slumped with a groaned curse, and Lynn started to shift her weight to move in his direction when the rest of the room warped, colors and images erupting around her. She covered her eyes and crouched low to the floor, refusing to scream - this room melting was not,  _could not_  be the worst destruction she had ever seen.

Noises popped and burst around her; she pressed her face into her knees and covered her eyes. She wondered if she would disappear in a moment, released from purgatory into the light of whatever judgment called her.

"I tried to do the right thing," she whispered, just in case something was listening.

"You always do," a tenor, accented voice replied. She dropped her hands and looked up; Loki was standing too close to properly see him past the chest piece of his vestments.

She looked to the sides and realized that she was on the other side of the barrier, outside of the room which had held her for so long. She shifted her weight and knelt rather than crouched, resting her thighs and peering around herself. She sat back on her heels and exhaled loudly, once. Her eyes burned; she covered her face.

"Yes," Loki said, "you are free." Hands tugged at her wrists, one more loosely than the other; she followed them up and up until she was standing. He turned her so that she was facing away from her prison, where a door with a glowing handle waited for her to open it.

She panted. Hands touched on her shoulders; she raised one of her own and wrapped her fingers under his, and she could feel the air around them tense. Loki pulled his hands away.

"I'm not apologizing," she said to the door, and a low chuckle made her smile in relief. "This is all your fault."

"I am attempting to fix my errors," the trickster said. Lynn took a deep breath and hugged herself. The door was tantalizing; she could hear a soft song in her mind, and wondered if it came from within.

"Is it Heaven?" she asked. She could barely whisper; fear clouded her reason, and she stepped forward once, hand outstretched to touch the knob.

"Hardly," Loki said with annoyance. "You are cleverer than that."

"I've never died before," she snapped.

"You've come close several times," he said.

"You're the worst," she muttered without spirit, and he fought the smile which threatened to creep across his face, even though she was faced away from him. This trip served a purpose, which he intended to honor.

"Remember what you have said." Loki raised his hands, and the light within the room dimmed. She couldn't stop herself from looking to the side, inside of her former prison where bright light shone through. She saw a chair, and canisters. She saw a body strapped to the chair, with thick red tubes protruding from its chest.

She saw the chest rise and fall. Her hands clutched over her mouth. She released a small, broken "oh" and turned away.

"Loki," she said. Her head ached.

"Look at what I have done," Loki said to her. "Look at what I have done, and tell me that I am a good man."

"I've never called you a good man," Lynn said.

"That is true," he said, bemused. "You were always wiser than my brother."

Turned away, she could pretend that it was one of Tony's suits at first, with wires and tubes poking in and out at all angles. She glanced at Loki, who watched her with a blank expression, and stepped closer to the sight in front of her. Dark tubes which shifted, ever so slightly, as liquid pumped endlessly through them. Dark, viscous liquid, maroon in the bright light.

"What if it works, Amma Lynn?" Loki stood behind her, out of her sight. She could barely breathe.

"What is one man's life against your entire race?" Loki stepped up behind her, rested his hands on her shoulders to hold her in place. She was shaking. "What is it worth, in the grand scheme of your species?"

"This is wrong," she gasped out. She was crying and she didn't care. "This is wrong, Loki."

"Is it?" He spun her slowly in his hands so that she faced him, tilted her face upwards. His head was cocked to the side, a lofty vulture peering down at dying prey. "Your friends had little trouble agreeing. All of the machines you see have Stark's name upon them."

She jerked away. "Stop lying."

Because he had to be lying. Loki would do this, she didn't doubt that, but Tony? Steve? Her faith was unshakable.

"You may see for yourself," the trickster said. He had taken her shoulder again. She tried to duck from his grip, and his hand shifted to her upper arm instead. He pulled her forward to the barrier, pressed her near the solid surface. Lynn stared inside of the room and read the Stark Industries logo on the canisters, the tubes, the chair. It shone from the varied metallic surfaces, glaring white against Asgardian steel.

She didn't remember hitting her knees or cording her hands through her hair. Loki's hand drifted down to settled over hers, distress rolling from her in waves.

"They wouldn't," she whispered. Her voice sounded shattered. "This is wrong."

"Your notes were most enlightening," Loki said.

She sucked in a sharp breath. "This is  _not_  my fault."

"Isn't it?" Loki leaned down next to her, his coat folding at odd angles as he crouched into her space. "You provided the guidance. Stark and the others merely followed your suggestion."

"Steve -"

"Do you truly believe that Stark would pursue this without the good Captain's blessing?"

"I don't believe he would care," she said, and Loki knew he had her.

"And that bothers you?" Loki stroked his unbroken hand over her head, the fingers of the other twitching. "Surely you knew the kind of man Stark is."

"Don't touch me." Lynn pushed his hand away, and he smiled as he leaned forward, encroaching on her. She flinched.

"Remember this moment, Amma Lynn," he hissed into her ear. "Remember how you feel."

"Why are you doing this?" She turned and looked at him, her dark eyes snapping into focus. "What's your aim here?"

Loki cursed viciously, once, in his native tongue. She straightened, enlightened and bursting with righteousness, but was robbed of the opportunity to question him further when a sudden crack appeared to the side of the door. Light burst into the room, making them both shield their eyes, and Thor's voice boomed through the opening.

"Loki!" he shouted. "Loki, release the bonds!"

Loki grunted in pain, clutching his chest and hissing. A second blow made him flinch, and the illusions wavered. He yelled at the light.

" _Stop, you great oaf_ -"

A third blow and the surroundings collapsed to the ground in a wave of sputtering green light. They were back within the holding cell, the barrier torn down by Mjolnir's power. The Avengers stood as one, looking down at the two of them. Lynn's still body lay at his feet, unmoving in its stasis; the canisters and chair were devoid of tubes, blood or body.

"What the fuck is even going on?" Wade said from the corner, his chest stitching itself back together. Loki's nose ran with blood, the stream pooling on his top lip before dripping to the body below. The small droplets spattered along Lynn's neck and face; he turned bright eyes to the collected group, took the body into one arm, and snarled.

"It is done," he snarled at the lot of them. He gripped her tightly to his chest, her back pressed firmly against him.

"Brother, cease this madness," Thor said. He gripped Mjolnir in one fist, spinning the hammer in a display of strength. Stark's eyes wandered over the revealed room, his mouth set in a firm, disapproving line matched by the Captain's stern glare. Sif circled around and approached the assassin, who was busy cursing himself back to life. Bruce knelt in front of Loki and reached for Lynn's wrist. The trickster, wild with threat, bared his teeth and tugged her body closer. Bruce met his eyes and waited until Loki's lips slid closed, then took her wrist to check for a pulse.

Natasha and Clint stared at Lynn's chest, waiting for the telltale rise of breath.

Bruce dropped her hand and leaned back, removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Loki," he began.

Lynn's body shuddered once, then sucked in a sharp breath as her eyes flew open, wide and confused.

Lynn was coughing, struggling to reorient herself in Loki's iron grip. The trickster kept her in place. Bruce reached for her, and Loki's hand adjusted to grip her throat. Lynn choked around his fingers; Bruce raised his hands.

"Brother, what have you done?" Thor asked.

"My will is done," the trickster said, standing and dragging Lynn to her feet as he moved. She gripped his wrist and arm, steadying herself and staring at Tony.

"But there is a complication," Loki said. He sneered at the lot of them. "You prattle and whine over moral qualms while hundreds of your own people die. If it is incentive you lack, consider this: she is still infected."

They all reacted as one, the humans jolting back while the Æsir eyed him warily.

"I guess he figured it out," Wade said to no one. Loki ignored him, meeting Steve's shocked stare with resolution.

"You dare judge my actions? Prove your moral superiority, Captain, and watch her wither and die before your very eyes."

He met Thor's eyes next.

"Or perhaps a merciful end instead? A sacrifice to the pillar of sanctimonious pride?" His fingers dug deep; the small woman in his grasp weakened, air cut off from her lungs. "You all have a choice: if you will not save her, I will kill her."

"Now just a minute," Tony said angrily. " _None_  of this is what we agreed on." Steve looked pained at this admission, his worst thoughts confirmed.

"Let her go, Loki," Steve said slowly. "You don't want her dead any more than we do."

"I will not watch her rot from within for the sake of your pride, Captain," Loki said.

"Is anyone going to ask me what I think?" Wade said from behind.

"No," Tony said.

"Aw come on. I bet I have a great answer."

"Alright, Wade," Steve said. He was watching Lynn's drooping arms, her eyes clouding over under Loki's grip.

"She's got a sweet ass. I say we save her." Wade raised both arms, offering his veins up to Bruce. "Stick me, Doc."

"Loki, we agree," Steve said. "Let her go now. Let go."

He released her all at once and Lynn collapsed, hands at her own throat as she gasped for air. Bruce knelt next to her and pulled her close, hugging her tightly and murmuring into her hair. Lynn looked up at Loki, mouth open as she panted. Her eyes were hard and steely, filled with anger.

The trickster repressed a grim smile, and considered it a job well done.

* * *

"What the  _hell_  was all of that about?" Tony ran a shaking hand through his hair. "We have Lynn back - woo hoo. She's filled with Ridley strain - nerts. Why bring her back just to try to kill her again?"

"He said it was motivation," Natasha said. "An incentive to force our hand."

"He was afraid," Thor said, and the others turned to look at him.

"Your baby bro seems afraid of most things," Tony offered. Thor sighed in weary agreement.

"Loki was raised as a prince of Asgard. This action - the resurrection - is forbidden craft on our home world."

"It is punishable by death," Sif said. "The draugr are not to be trifled with."

"Loki thought we would kill him if he didn't have leverage?" Steve asked.

"That is the way of it," Thor said.

"Turns out we didn't need any of that," Tony said. "Wade gave himself to science willingly. I guess we could've just asked sooner."

"You never ask for permission," Natasha said.

"Damn right," Tony said. Steve clenched his jaw, and the two fell silent in their banter. In the end, only Steve carried continued reservations about the revelations of Tony and Loki's actions; in light of the newest deadline, even Bruce seemed content to let sleeping dogs lie.

Steve felt very alone, and very old.

"Sif and Bruce are taking Lynn to quarantine," Clint said from the corner of the room. "Precautions."

"We all need to go through detox, don't we?" Tony asked. "Or is it too late?"

"I don't think we can get infected," Clint said. There was an awkward shuffling of feet during the pause which followed.

"You don't  _think_  so?" Tony shook his head, disbelieving. "That's not how science works, Barton."

"We were all in and out of that room where the strain was. Natasha cleaned up the body. Bruce, Nat and I - we've all been exposed, multiple times - not one of us got sick, except for Lynn." Clint looked around the room. "Think about it. What do we all share that she doesn't?"

"Oh," Natasha said with a startled blink. "I see."

"See what?" Tony asked.

Steve rubbed the dead center of his chest, eyes slightly glazed from a faraway memory. Tony watched him, then leaned back onto the heels of his feet with a huff.

"Huh," he said. "Immunity by tree?"

"That's my guess," Clint said.

"Come to think of it, I've never had a cold," Tony said with some wonder.

"What about Thor and Loki?" Natasha asked, glancing at the thunderer.

"I do not know," he said when they all turned to him. "I did not inject any sort of protection into our bodies before parting with the Gauntlet."

"Could Loki have?" Steve looked at Thor, who seemed startled at the thought.

"I am not sure he would, if given the chance," the thunderer admitted.

Clint raised both eyebrows and made no comment.

* * *

Sif and Bruce sat across from Lynn, separated by a curtain of thick, clear plastic. Lynn sat on a cot, leaned back against a stark white background. Her legs were folded underneath her, and her hands draped inside of her crooked knees. She watched them with a placid expression, and they both exchanged occasional glances in between observing her.

Bruce cleared his throat.

"It's not forever," he stuttered a bit. "Just until we find a way to cure this thing."

"It's not much time," Lynn said. She sounded calm. Sif watched her closely for signs of a draugr's hostilities. It appeared that, using his seiðr alone, Loki had done the forbidden and oft-thought impossible. Sif could not call herself comforted.

They had all known that Loki's powers were increased above previous known levels, because Thor had fittingly warned them. He had not clarified specifically to what level, and in light of this recent admittance-by-proxy, Sif could not stop her suspicions from veering toward the dark and terrible. If Loki could call such mighty seiðr at will, who could stop him save for one other - a brother who loved him still, and would be pained to attack the little brother he'd come to trust?

Her thoughts spun into deadly directions, and she clenched her hand around her spear as she resolved herself to serve as needed when the time came. For she knew the time would come, for certain - she just could not predict  _when_.

"You don't have to stay," Lynn was saying while Sif circled her own fears. "I'm fine."

"Are you hungry?" Bruce asked. He offered a paper bag, which he pushed close to the zippered opening of the plastic sheet. Lynn looked from the bag to his face; Bruce shuffled nervously. "It's just a couple of sandwiches. Tony said you'd like turkey."

She blinked. Sif, who knew the look of betrayal and disappointment, straightened her spine.

"What passed, Lynn? Why do you no longer trust Stark?"

Lynn flickered her eyes to Sif, mildly surprised to be so easily read.

"Did either of you know?' she asked them, and Bruce shook his head.

"We didn't - we wouldn't have - you can't believe that -"

"I don't." Lynn looked down at her twitching fingers and pressed the tips against each other to still them. "But Tony - he - who else knew?"

"Loki, and Barton," Sif supplied. Lynn visibly flinched, and Bruce realized the list included the two Avengers who she had been closest to. If Natasha -

"And Natasha?" she asked, voicing his own thoughts.

"I would not call her opposed," Sif said. Bruce felt tired when Lynn met his eyes.

"We don't want to lie to you," he said to the pained look. "You should know the truth."

"Now Wade has volunteered, and this is a moot point," Sif offered. Both mortals looked at her. She felt the weight of their judgment, but she could not stop her own pragmatism. "You are ill, Lynn. We must focus on finding the solution before we trouble ourselves with your moral qualms."

"How do  _you_  feel about it, Sif?" Lynn asked. The Asgardian tensed. Not one of them had asked her, directly, what she thought of recent events. She had supported Steve's distaste because of his need to not feel completely alone. Yet his people were  _dying_. She was a warrior before she was a crusader of morality, and she understood the need for some ends justifying particular means. Even then, justification could be a slippery thing - had she not joined Thor in his mad quest to instigate war with the Jötun, simply because he was her friend?

She said nothing, instead choosing to shake her head. Her silence was answer enough; Lynn sighed deeply and crossed her arms.

"Water," Bruce said, breaking the awkward silence. He set an unopened bottle next to the paper bag. "There's a call button on the wall. Press it if you need anything, JARVIS will let us know."

"Alright," Lynn said. "I'd like to sleep now."

Bruce and Sif looked at each other. They both knew the girl wouldn't sleep, and was asking for time alone. Bruce put on a friendly smile.

"Sure, Lynn. We'll see you, OK?"

They left. Lynn pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. There were already deep circles under her eyes - Loki's seiðr had maintained a true stasis. She was at least a day into an infection which, so far, had not allowed a single person to last more than a week.

"Enjoy that?" she asked the air. Loki shimmered into sight, and she closed her eyes to avoid looking at him.

"Thor and the good Captain did not know," he said. He stepped up to the sterile curtain and touched a hand to it. "You may still believe in them, should you wish."

"That's not what you want though, is it?" She opened her eyes. Loki froze at the cold stare. "You want me to hate them."

"I would curse your perception, but I feel that in this case, it works in my favor." Loki clasped his hands behind his back, pinned in place by that cold, detached stare.

"You're isolating me from them," she said. Loki tilted his head. "Reminding me of who they are. If I asked about Thor, you'd tell me about the awful things he did before, wouldn't you? If I asked about Steve…"

"He is the only caveat, I admit," Loki said. "But I am certain that even the good Captain can be corrupted."

"Why are you doing this?" It was a continuation of their earlier conversation. Loki shook his head, refusing to answer, and she shuddered.

"Stark is not your friend," he said gently. Her fingers clenched into her thighs. "Perhaps he treats you well, and supplies your needs, but he is not a good man. Look at what associating with him has done to you."

"This isn't Tony's fault," she said weakly. Loki scoffed.

"They found you because of your connection to  _him_. Even your kindest leaps of logic cannot avoid that truth."

"You're using me," Lynn said quietly, into her knees. She couldn't hide the pain she felt from her voice. "To make them do what you want."

"It is penance," Loki said. "They will find the cure and save you, or you will die again by their failure. They, too, must learn the consequences of their association."

"Bastard," she whispered. "You cold-hearted bastard."

"Do not forget what I am, Amma Lynn." The trickster raised one hand and pressed it again to the plastic which housed her; she kept her gaze down. "I am cruel, opportunistic. I am chaos."

"You were my friend," she said.

Her pain had never cut so deep as this. At the best of times, their interactions veered toward begrudging civility. He had been certain she only tolerated his presence on behalf of his supposed reformation, with no further motivations. She had not. She had considered him a friend. Perhaps a prickly, hard-to-understand friend, but a  _friend_  nonetheless.

He was not a young child; the revelation did not force him to clutch at his heart in sudden epiphany, or choke on his words. He examined the knowledge, then tucked it away into the back of his mind where he could pursue it further later. For now, he kept to his oath.

"I was not," Loki said, still gentle in tone. "You knew as much from my nature. Did you think me attached? I did not believe you to be so foolish."

She did not move or speak, but her shoulders drew up close to her head as her muscles tensed. He was hurting her. He smiled outwardly, and ignored his traitorous mind.

"Did you think I visited you out of some kind of affection, Amma Lynn?" He laughed, cruel and unkind. He rasped at her: "How quaint. Odin All-Father drove me to your company, you ignorant little mortal."

Loki crouched, sliding his hand down along with him. The plastic sheet rustled as he moved.

"I am bound to the queen's will. If I misbehave, she will be forced to kill me - and that would distress her greatly. Do you see the leash now, Amma Lynn?" His tone became cruel and sharp; he spat his words at her, willing her to  _let go_  of whatever bond she felt they had.

"I came to you as a guise," he said. "They all think me attached, even now - I could not let such a perception go to waste. They watch me come to you, and assume it is because I am tamed. You accuse me of using you now, Amma Lynn? I thought you smarter than that - surely you suspected, surely you  _knew_ , that you were only ever a tool."

His thoughts howled; he pushed them away.

"It's enough," she said. Her voice cracked. "You can go now."

Loki straightened, dropped his hand, and ignored his roiling mind. Pain radiated from the small, curled figure before him. She was shaking; he could hear her breath hitching in the staccato rhythm of tears. Loki wanted to say one last thing, a final push to shatter the perceptions she had built over the past year. He found he could not speak, for his throat felt tight and wet.

He did not understand why.

When Natasha came to check on Lynn a few minutes later, the girl was alone in the room, and crying. After a frustrated glare at the assassin, a hasty attempt to wipe her leaking eyes clean, Natasha left her to her thoughts without a word and told the others to stay away until JARVIS indicated Lynn was ready for visitors.

They left her alone for the remainder of the day.


	20. Tarp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> China recently shut down and isolated a city of 30,000 because someone there died of Bubonic plague.
> 
> Also, a massive Ebola outbreak is ongoing in Africa. If you have some spare change, consider a donation to Doctors Without Borders.

 

In a small Russian village, a nine year old girl fell ill after returning from a trip to Moscow. The capital city had fallen into quarantine only two days after the family left, the desperate parents moving their vulnerable child back to the relative safety of the secluded Russian countryside. The parents hid her condition for four days before a neighbor heard the raspy cough from within, and by nightfall the family were driven from their home and forced to flee.

The girl only had pneumonia. She shivered in her mother's arms as her parents rushed her to the nearest hospital, over an hour away.

Johannesburg, South Africa's largest city, struggled with an influx of diseased flesh, as rumor spread that consuming the disease would allow one to conquer the effects. The infection rate soared as city officials scrambled to implement quarantine with little funding, and city-funded vigilante groups rose to the task of separating the infected from the uninfected while wearing protective suits provided by Doctors Without Borders. Despite efforts to avoid cross-contamination, every day a new infection was recorded among the workers, be they nurses, doctors or paid vigilantes.

When the infection reached Fiji, quarantine was declared a failure by the United Nations, and a more aggressive approach to rounding up the infected was encouraged.

On the 56th day of the infection, with over half of the world's countries reporting high incidences, governments across the world began to enforce aggressive campaigns of population quarantine. In New York, entire buildings were tarped with clear plastic sheeting to prevent the residents within from continuing the spread, and traffic was called to a halt. Other U.S. cities followed suit, while those without infected residents set up roadblocks several miles out from the city access points.

Deep in Central Appalachia, far from the nearest cell phone tower or wireless internet, life continued on.

* * *

The brothers sat together, Loki leaned forward with one hand braced against Thor's knee. His palm was upturned, and he was watching as his brother wrapped a thick wet gauze around and around, tightening to the point of pain to set the bone within.

"Would you tell me how you broke it, if I asked?" Thor sounded amused yet exhausted, with an undercurrent of disapproval. Still, the thunderer avoided addressing Loki's actions in favor of dressing his wound.

Loki was tempted to break the companionship between them. He sat still, sometimes turning his forearm to provide a better angle for Thor's large fingers.

"I can hear you thinking, brother," Loki said after a while. "You may ask, if you wish."

"I can feel the root within your chest," Thor said. Loki leaned back, straightening his spine. "It is not visible to the others, nor even my eyes, but I remember the feeling of Yggdrasil's children well enough."

He wrapped the gauze around, and around, while Loki tried to think of what to say to this.

"I was also privy to your conversation with Lynn Creed," the thunderer said, and Loki tried to jerk his hand back, to twist and turn away so that he could stand and pace. Thor maintained his grip, eyes hardening to blue slate until the trickster stopped trying to pull away and simply sat in begrudging silence.

"I instructed JARVIS to notify me of any conversations you have with her, when no one else is present," Thor said. He dipped his fingers into a bowl of water sitting on the table at his side, then rubbed those fingers along the gauze. The first strip of plaster came next. Loki realized that Thor had learned a thing or two about how to force a conversation on an unwilling participant. If the trickster left now, he would need to find another to finish tending to his wound. All of the Avengers with such skills currently resented his presence; he was trapped with the only one who would give him the time of day. Granted, Dr. Banner was soft-hearted and unafraid enough to manage, but it would be awkward between the two of them while the doctor tried to avoid asking uncomfortable questions about Stark's clear involvement in Loki's plans.

Loki admitted that Thor had played his hand well.

"I'm surprised that you have not already begun your lecture. Let's hear it, brother. Tell me my sins."

"You know them well enough, Loki." Thor pressed the plaster strips a bit too hard, and Loki hissed at the twinge. "I cannot say I agree with your actions, though I understand your intention."

"Do you?" Loki did not like this new Thor, who understood his younger brother so well. "You would be the first."

"I believe Lynn Creed was perhaps the first." Thor dipped his fingers to clean them. Milky plaster shed into the clear water. "I have learned accordingly, after our time spent together."

"What is it you have learned?" Loki asked. "To bore me with faux perceptions?"

"She is your anchor, brother," Thor said. Loki scoffed.

"I need no anchor, Thor."

"Perhaps not in your own eyes. The eyes of others are less forgiving."

Loki bristled. "Whose eyes shall I strive to appease? Your dear beloved? Your friends, with their oddly specific senses of justice? I wonder if your  _friends_  would extend the same second chance to me as Stark."

"Barton already has," Thor said. "Natasha was not entirely displeased with your actions, on account of the consequences."

"How reassuring," Loki rasped. "The most morally corrupt are on my side."

"Heimdall is not so forgiving."

Loki jerked back, a full-body flinch controlling his motions for an uncontrolled moment.

"Our father is not so trusting of your nature as to leave you unwatched," Thor said. He had not released Loki's hand, and the trickster did not try to pull away again. "You thought I did not know."

"You were never so quick to see." Loki turned his head away from his brother's eyes to gaze at the far wall of Thor's quarters. "Your Jane is having a positive effect on you."

"As Lynn had on you," Thor said. Loki pursed his lips.

"You know why I have done this," Loki said. "You know what she has suffered for knowing us -  _all_  of us."

"What oath have you made to yourself?" Thor pressed another strip, the cast now forming in shape. "Is it worth what you have done?"

"I swore," Loki began, and stopped. His voice failed him; he flexed the fingers of his free hand, and shook his head. "I swore she would not suffer again, for knowing us."

"That is not the same vow you made so many years ago," Thor said.

"It is, of a fashion," Loki said.

"No." Thor pressed the corners of another strip firmly. Loki was steadily losing the ability to bend his wrist, and despite the locality of the wound began to feel constrained.

"Must it be so tight?" He shifted in his seat, fingers twitching in irritation. Thor said nothing in response, and his irritation morphed into anxiousness. "What is it, brother? What do you want to say?"

"She was very hurt," the thunderer said, and left it at that.

* * *

"You can't stay mad at me forever," Tony said for the third time in ten minutes. He was sitting on the other side of a thick clear plastic sheet, a pack of Ramen noodles cupped in one palm. Lynn was pacing on the other side, irritated that he wouldn't leave her alone.

"I can do whatever I want," she said. Tony scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"I pay your stipend, kid. You do what I say no matter what."

Lynn sat on the floor and leaned back against her cot. She closed her eyes and shuddered violently, once, sucking in a sharp breath. Tony paused in his eating and watched her, eyebrows creasing in concern. When she opened her eyes again, he pointed his fork at her.

"I'll fix this," he said. Lynn crossed her legs and rolled her eyes, a habit she'd picked up in abundance after repeated exposure to the inventor.

Tony grinned lazily and ate another forkful of noodles.

"I can't even smell it," Lynn said. Her voice was muffled by the plastic sheet.

"That's for the best," Tony said. "This shit's terrible. It's supposed to be vegetable noodles. It tastes like salt."

"How much salt?" she asked, closing her eyes.

" _All_  the salt," he said with a familiar smile.

"How could you do it?" Lynn hadn't opened her eyes again. Tony set the cup of noodles down on the floor next to his foot. "You know why I didn't."

"Someone had to," Tony said.

"No one had to."

"No," Tony said, "someone  _had_  to. It's not just you, Lynn. This thing could kill a lot of people. It already has _._ "

"Then Loki and Thor will just reset everything again," Lynn said. She opened her eyes and met Tony's. "It's true. You know it's true."

"Not this time," Tony said. "Thor said he can't get back to the Gauntlet, even if he wanted to. They buried it deep inside of...the tree thing."

Lynn considered this. Tony had spoken with Thor about the possibility already - and been shot down. Lynn wasn't sure she believed him.

"He's lying," Lynn said. She held no conviction or pain in the words, simply laying them flat and letting the meaning carry. Tony glanced at her.

"Which 'he?'" She closed her eyes again, and Tony tapped the plastic with a finger. "Hey, don't ignore me. I need attention."

"Where's Wade?" Lynn asked, effectively shutting down the topic. Tony considered badgering her, but she looked so tired and sick that he decided to let it go. The more pragmatic side of him did not want to waste time arguing a moot point with a deathly ill woman.

"With Bruce," he said.  _Safe from all of us,_  he didn't need to add. Lynn's look of relief was enough.

"That's good," she said. She scratched at the top of her knee, covered her mouth with her free hand, and coughed. The single cough became a sudden splattering of blood across her fingers. She pulled her hand away and sighed at the sight.

"You can't fix this, Tony," she said.

"The hell I can't. I fixed crazy fire powers and shrapnel heart, I can fix  _this_."

"You didn't -"

The door behind him slid open, and both turned to look at their new visitor. Natasha stepped into the room and smiled at Lynn, offering a friendly wave. Lynn returned the wave with her bloodied hand, and Natasha's smile wavered.

"Tony's going to fix it," Lynn said solemnly. She didn't believe it for a moment.

"I'm so sure," Natasha said. She nudged Tony's shoulder with her knee. "You should let her rest."

"She doesn't want to rest."

Natasha stared down at him, and Tony raised his eyebrows.

"Oh. That's code for 'take your penis outside,' huh? Fine." He grabbed the cup of cold noodles and stood. "Should I get Pep on the line?"

"We'll be fine." Natasha jerked her chin over her shoulder, telling him to leave. The inventor waved to both of them.

"JARVIS, play some Joni Mitchell. Girl talk time!" The door shut behind him as the opening strains of  _River_  bled through the walls. The women looked at each other. Natasha motioned to Lynn's hand.

"I coughed it out," Lynn said, holding up the hand for Natasha to see. She stood a moment later and approached her small sink to begin trying to wash the blood free. "I was sick for two days before I - died. The average lifespan from time of infection is six days." She was speaking with a detached sort of air, assessing her situation with honesty. "Today would be day three. That gives me three more."

Natasha watched her stand shakily, approach the sink, and occasionally grasp at the metal stand to hold herself upright. "How much longer can you get around?"

"Maybe a day," Lynn said. "By day five they're almost all immobilized in a bed."

"You know what Loki wants us to do," Natasha said.

"He made it pretty clear."

"How do you feel about it?"

Lynn gripped the sink and stared at her sunken eyes in the mirror above it. Her hair hung in scraggly tatters around her head. She filled her hands with water and began running them over and through the black and red strands, smoothing it into some semblance of order.

"He's doing it for himself," she said. "He doesn't want any of you to turn on him for what he did."

"Stark helped," Natasha said. Lynn splashed her face with water and rubbed her hand down to rest over her mouth.

"He did," she said against her palm. It hurt to admit, every time.

"What can you tell us about the people who held you here?" Natasha had crossed her arms, her standard pose when she wasn't about to hit something. Lynn sat on her cot.

"Afzal Bakaar," Lynn said. "He told me Tony killed his father."

"He's worked his way up the ranks," Natasha said. "Made a name for himself in Syria. We think this was his coup mission, but it didn't work out."

"He'll come back?" Lynn couldn't bother feeling afraid of the possibility. The assorted humans and Asgardians present were more than enough to handle Afzal's forces. Most of them had fought off an alien army, and one had led that army in the first place.

"JARVIS, god, change the music. Something cheerful, OK?"

"Of course, Miss Creed." The music changed and she sighed in relief.

"Did Wade hurt you?" Natasha suddenly asked. She had approached the plastic sheet and stood with burning eyes and tensed shoulders. Lynn blinked and creased her brow.

"Other than taking me in the first place?"

"You know what I mean." Natasha held her eyes firmly on Lynn's, and the younger woman crossed her arms over her chest.

"Not like that. He never touched me." A breath of relief huffed against the plastic, and Natasha nodded.

"He's volunteered now. We'll do a transfusion if that's what it takes."

Lynn thought of a chair, a body, red tubes and viscous liquid. She shuddered.

"Sleep now, Lynn," Natasha said. "We'll get this done."

"Three days," Lynn said, and Natasha pursed her lips.

* * *

_This guy is the Hulk, you know._

"No shit," Wade said. Bruce motherfucking Banner himself was busy tying off a thick rubber hose around the mercenary's arm. "Don't you guys have like thirty gallons of this shit by now?"

_You should be polite. He broke Harlem._

"Big up to Brooklyn," Wade said. Bruce pushed his glasses up his nose and sighed.

"We've been sending it all out to other labs," he said as he tapped Wade's veins. "This won't take long."

"Smack my bitch up," Wade said.

_Lux Aeterna is overused. Can't people make their own music anymore?_

"Great movie, though," Wade said. "They should show that in D.A.R.E. classes. Kids wouldn't touch the shit."

"Who do you even talk to?" Bruce asked. He sounded honestly curious rather than annoyed. Wade fisted his hand, popping his veins out further.

"God," he said with an overdramatic warble in his voice. "It's really awkward when I'm taking a shit."

_I'm flattered._

"Having other people in your head can be exhausting," Bruce said. He was already on the third vial.

_Steady hands. Where's the chick, anyway?_

"Say, that chick I totally kidnapped, where's she at?" The needle jolted just enough to sting, and Wade let out a small "hrm" of protest.

"Sorry," Bruce said.

_He doesn't sound sorry at all._

"She's in quarantine."

"Alone?" Wade flexed the fingers of his free hand, and snapped. "That's not very nice. At least before she had me."

_Is that a punishment?_

"It's a blessing," Wade said haughtily.

"I'm not sure she'd agree," Bruce said. He withdrew the needle and started to press a cotton swab to the wound, only to see that there was no longer a wound. "We're thinking of trying a transfusion."

_Could that work?_

"Seems shady," Wade said. "What if I have alien blood? Maybe it'll burn right through her veins."

Bruce held up one of the intact plastic vials. "You don't have alien blood."

"I could," Wade said. "Hell, you've got real aliens here. The chick - she's hot. I'm gonna try my hand at -"

"You wouldn't." Bruce again seemed more curious than annoyed. Wade supposed a guy who could crush anyone's skull didn't have much to worry about.

_You never know unless you try._

"Damn right," Wade said. "I could hit second base with an interstellar babe."

"I guess you could try," Bruce said. "I don't think Steve would be happy, though."

"Captain Nose Breaker? Man. You wanna know how I got these scars?"

_You should be more original._

"I'm totally original."

"Look, we need to figure out what to do with you," Bruce said. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "We can't just let you wander around, but I'm not comfortable keeping you locked up while we're, while…"

He trailed off into an awkward silence while Wade tried to figure out what the problem could possibly be.

_Some people have morals._

"Oh, right," Wade said. "Lynn was weird about this shit, too. Look, it's fine, I'm a big kid, eat my Wheaties and everything."

"Trust me," Bruce said, "it's not  _you_."

_Ouch._

Wade grabbed his chest. "Man, right in the ticker. That was hurtful."

_He should just hit you lots of times, like the others do._

"Seriously," Wade said. "A giant meat fist right to the face would've been better."

Bruce waved a hand around the room. "This is all the people who don't want to hurt you, Wade." He was the only one in the room. "You might've noticed, we're all pretty fond of Lynn. It's your fault that she's dying now - again."

_It is totally not your fault._

"Yeah," Wade said. "I'm just the hired help."

"I'm here because you're the best shot we've got at saving Lynn," Bruce said.

"I'm not the one who almost broke her fucking neck." Wade pouted. "Shouldn't you be talking to  _that_  guy?"

"That guy is another issue we'll deal with." The way he said it, Wade suddenly felt pretty relieved that he was just the guy who kidnapped Lynn in the first place. It didn't sound like  _dealing with it_  would be any kind of fun.

_Who likes a scolding?_

"Will you hit him lots of times?" Wade asked, perking up. "Because I gotta tell ya, I'd really love to see that."

* * *

Afzal lowered a heavy set of long range binoculars to his side and turned to wave forward his men. Several laden carts were pulled up the small mountain trail, heavy tarps protecting the weaponry within from easy sighting. They were all dressed in sandy colors, their faces hidden from sight by thick mesh coverings. Head to toe, they blended with their surroundings.

"Midnight," he told them, and the men began to assemble the carts into a sort of formation. Several used hefty rocks to press behind the wheels, forcing the carts to stay in place. Once their gear was secured, camouflaged from roving eyes, they melted into the nooks of crannies of the mountainside, waiting for night to fall.


	21. Hail

Afzal sat with his back to the compound, refusing to grant his enemies the courtesy of acknowledgement for the time being. The mission had proven to be profoundly disappointing, and he tried to keep his own spirits raised as the men readied themselves for the oncoming brawl.

The angle of his body also improved the signal of his communicator, which rested against his wrist. A small green light pulsed in the corner to signify an ongoing call.

He spoke in French, as this was the common language between himself and the one called.

"We attack at midnight," he said. His tone dipped and warped as the words flowed from his lips.

"You seem disappointed, Afzal," the German-tinted voice replied. "You expected more?"

"It was a simple trap - easily predicted. Every one of them came here."

"Yes," said the voice with great satisfaction.

"There is little honor in battling an unwary foe," Afzal said.

"As much as there was in your father's murder, yes?" Afzal pressed his lips together and turned his head. It was a simple, quick reminder, and it worked immediately.

"Yes," he said lowly. "At midnight," he repeated, and pressed the side of the communicator to disconnect from the call.

* * *

Loki had learned many things over a long life, and few of these so-called facts were unchangeable. With the most minor manipulations, he could turn many situations to his advantage, and did so without shame. In truth, only one fact remained outside of his grasp, and it was less a fact and more of an unmovable force. Namely, his brother Thor, and his ridiculous attachment to a diminutive mortal woman.

It was this attachment which compelled the trickster to sit before the monitor within Thor's room and allow Jane Foster the privilege of explaining his faults to him. If asked, he would lie and claim that he was truly chastised rather than envisioning her lovey spine mounted on his wall, or perhaps those shining eyes plucked from their sockets to roll across the floor.

He sat with his hands crossed in his lap and listened to her scolding with occasional glances around the side of the monitor, where Thor sat watching him. Loki sighed, rolled his eyes, and began to pay attention once more.

"Yes, I understand that resurrection is a terrible atrocity," he drawled. "It is lucky, then, that this is not what I have done for Amma Lynn."

"She used to be dead and now she's not," Jane said. "There's not too many words for that and they all sound a lot like 'god complex.' You can't just  _do_  that, Loki, it's dangerous -"

"I did not," he said, and she ignored his repetition.

"- and it opens too many possibilities. People would want everyone raised up, and who gets to decide?"

"Then you think Lynn Creed should have remained dead?" the trickster asked, leaving a sudden tension following his words. He raised his eyebrows and glanced from Jane's shivering face to Thor's raised eyebrows behind her.

"What?" he asked, annoyed at their apprehension. "It is a valid question."

"You said you didn't resurrect her," Jane said slowly. "What did you mean?"

"The ævi forn was collapsing with her inside of it. I allowed her to escape."

Jane pressed her fingers to her temples. "Loki, that's just another way of saying -"

"She was trapped," he said. Jane looked up and creased her brow. "A paradox was created, where she was both alive and dead, separated only by time. Her body was here, separated from her…" Loki tried to think of the best term.

"Her soul?" Jane asked, and the trickster flinched.

"It will suffice," he said. "Her  _soul_  was trapped inside of the ævi forn, alone, while her body was here, preserved by my seiðr. I did nothing beyond allow the two to rejoin."

"She was trapped?" Jane's eyes were wide, and he knew he had her.

"Yes, Miss Foster, and when the time pocket as you call it collapsed, she would be lost forever."

He could see the appeal of the idea across her lovely mortal face, and smiled when he knew he'd won. "So you see," he said, "it had to be done."

"Either way she is raised," Thor said from behind the monitors. Jane sighed and nodded.

"You're right, Thor - water under the bridge, I guess." She chewed at her bottom lip, worrying the poor flesh as she debated another statement. Loki narrowed his eyes and felt his upper lip curling as he prepared for whatever she was about to say.

"I will speak with you on the morrow, Jane." Thor came around the monitors and smiled brightly, banishing her concerns in one fell swoop. Jane beamed at him and waved, promising to be available for his next call before reaching toward the screen. The image dropped away, leaving black space behind. Thor settled his weight against the metal desk, which creaked in protest. Tony had already replaced one, and Thor took greater care with the furniture in his quarters as a result.

"You called her Lynn Creed," Thor said, and Loki leaned back to look up at him.

"It is her name," Loki said with a scowl.

"Indeed," Thor said, "and you have not used it in millenia."

Loki pushed up from the chair, intending to leave. Thor's hand shoved into the center of his chest, forcing him back down into the seat, and the trickster snarled.

"You cannot force me to speak with you," he rasped.

"But I can," said Thor. "I can sit here and wait until you admit the truth."

"Which truth would you like, brother?" Loki was fighting the urge to sulk in the chair, brought on by nothing more than Thor's overbearing presence. "I am full of truths for you. Simply tell me what you would like to hear, and I shall happily oblige."

"You cannot avoid her forever," the thunderer said. Loki tensed, expecting something more, and Thor merely stood and left the room.

The trickster sat in silence, his face blank of all emotion. He blinked once, twice, and looked to the corner of the room where JARVIS' silent eye observed him.

"I suppose even you are upset with my actions," Loki said to the air. "A mortal construct judging the actions of a higher being."

"I could not speak to hierarchy, sir," JARVIS said. "I can, however, say that I agree with Mr. Odinson in his assessment of the situation."

"You are an automaton of Stark's, no better than a slave," Loki hissed.

"I am merely being consistent. When Mr. Stark's health suffered, I suggested he tell Miss Potts the nature of his deterioration."

"Amma Lynn is not my woman," Loki said wearily. He was tired of arguing the point.

"Neither was Miss Potts in a relationship with Mr. Stark at the time," JARVIS said. "They were friends and coworkers, and I felt that she had a right to understand his actions."

Loki drummed his fingers on the metal table. "Very well," he murmured, and stood from the desk. "Into the lion's den."

* * *

"Do you think what he did was right?" Bruce asked Natasha. He was peering into a microscope, adjusting the focus with his gloved fingers.

"I can't say I'm sad he did it," Natasha said beside him. She was pipetting a small drop of liquid culture onto a slide. Three others rested on the counter, and she took the earliest prepared, now with a dried sample on top, and passed it over a small open flame three times. "Lynn would still be dead if he hadn't."

"It just doesn't sit right," Bruce said and reached for the slide. He pulled the one currently under observation and tossed it into a sharps container on his left, then slide the next into place. He took up a small glass bottle and unscrewed the cap, which emerged with a thin glass rod on the opposite side of the lid. Beads of oil gathered at the tip, and he pressed the bead to the center of the slide before capping the oil. He adjusted the scope until the lens just touched the oil, then pulled back, using the viscosity to assist in his coarse focusing.

"It's definitely in the gray area," Natasha said. Her smile was hidden behind the mask covering the bottom half of her face. "It's done now, anyway."

"Yeah," Bruce said. "It sure is. Hey, look at this - it's a macrophage. Tell me what you see."

Natasha sidled over and peered into the lenses. "Large thing surrounding small purple thing," she said after a few moments.

"Large thing is the macrophage - the good guys. We like large thing. Purple thing is our strain."

Natasha blinked against the light shining directly into her eyes. "It looks like it's being eaten."

"It is," Bruce said. "That's what we do with other diseases, when our immune system is working right. That's what  _his_  is doing, too. But that's not his blood."

Natasha leaned back and looked at Bruce.

"That's yours. The slide at your hand, that's mine. The next one over is Tony. They'll all look the same."

Natasha twisted and settled her rump against the edge of the counter to support her weight. "So it's true."

"It's true," Bruce said. "And it opens up possibilities."

Natasha clenched her jaw. "His is a mutation."

"Right," Bruce said. "Mine is too, maybe, and Steve is questionable. But not you or Tony, or Barton."

"Regular humans with immunity," Natasha said, and Bruce nodded.

"It could take us pretty far," he said. "It could take us all the way to a treatment, a cure. Maybe even a vaccine, but I don't think it's viral."

Natasha nodded. "You'll need more of our blood?"

"Yeah," Bruce said. "I'd say it's up to you, but Nat -"

"There's been almost six thousand deaths," she said quietly. "It's not going to get better."

Bruce nodded and cast his eyes down.

"How quickly morals erode," Natasha said, and again, the mask hid her smile.

* * *

Lynn was busy writing in one of several notebooks Tony had provided to her. She had found that the man refused to acknowledge her anger with him by steadfastly ignoring her angry retorts. Dozens of conversations with Pepper over the past several months had taught her that this was Tony's coping mechanism when someone he appeared to care about expressed anger with him: ignore, speak over and force them to move on.

She was too tired to argue anymore, and her chest ached with every breath. She decided to spare herself the indignity of dying angry and just accepted his apology and his gifts. In the end, it turned into a worthwhile decision - he had given her notebooks and an ereader with a charger, which he loaded with various books he'd decided she had to read. He'd loaded her music onto JARVIS' server and given her an earpiece so that she could listen to the others as they moved about the compound and spoke with each other.

He brought her a sandwich, and she'd tossed it into the biohazard container inside of her room when the smell made her sick. He brought her soup, which she sipped at. She couldn't keep the noodles down.

Her eyes were watery, her nose runny. She was dressed in oversized white pajamas which bunched at her wrists and ankles. She felt like a child and wished she had longer limbs so that she wouldn't need to roll up every sleeve and pants leg.

She wondered if these would be the last clothes she ever wore.

"Would you forgive me, if I asked it?"

Lynn didn't look up because she didn't want to see him.

"There's nothing to forgive," she said. Her pen breached the paper and she tore a short line before she stopped herself. "I just forgot where we stood."

She heard his clothing rustle as he crouched across from her, and wondered when she'd come to know his sounds well enough to decipher them.

"Look at me, Amma Lynn."

"No." The pen remained still; he was distracting her. "You made your views clear. You can leave now."

"Please, look at me."

She turned and stared at him, and he noticed that the pen was shaking in her hand.

"You make it hard to be your friend," she said, and looked down. Loki closed his eyes for a moment, then pressed both hands against the plastic barrier.

Loki braced himself. He inhaled, deeply, and opened his mouth to utter the phrase he so despised.

"Amma Lynn," he began, and stopped himself for how it pained him. He licked his lips; she kept her eyes down, and did not see his struggle.

"I am -"

He stopped, tense and anxious. How long since he had spoken an apology and meant it? Did he even mean it now? He could not be certain of his own intentions, save for the ache which persisted the longer she avoided looking at him.

"I am -"

A loud explosion rocked the foundation above them, and chunks of the ceiling tumbled all around them. Lynn screamed, a warbly, broken noise from her damaged lungs, and covered her head with her hands.

Loki ripped the plastic down.

"Loki," she wheezed. She was struggling to breathe; there was too much debris in the air around her, and blood stained her lips and chin as she coughed.

"Loki, don't, the strain -"

"You cannot hurt me," he said. He wrapped his arms underneath her legs and back, hoisting her into the air with bare effort. She felt as light as a small Aesir toddler, and she clung to him as he carried her from the room.

Her blood shone against his leather crest.

"It's Afzal," she was saying, "it's him. He'll take me again. He'll take me." She sounded terrified, and Loki realized that in all the time he had known her, he had never heard such broken sounds from her throat. He had seen her scared and screaming, even broken, but this creature in his arms was torn down not by outside forces, but by invaders within. Her own body weakened her will, and in the onslaught of physical ailment her stubborn, tenacious hope finally failed.

In that moment, he hated the cursed strain coursing through her more than his own dreaded fate, and the repulsion led to sudden clarity.

"It is alright, Amma Lynn," he murmured into her hair. "You will be safe."

"I'm never safe with you," she said, and it was to his shame that he realized how correct the statement was.

* * *

Steve fired through the hole blown through the cafeteria ceiling, yelling to Sif beside him.

"They're coming in waves, don't use it all! Thor, Bruce, we need you here!"

"I'm on my way," Thor said through the comms, and a distant roar signified the appearance of the Hulk within the compound.

"Banner, don't destroy the lab -"

A grenade plopped through the hole and both Steve and Sif dove to the sides, covering their heads as the explosion detonated around them. Tables were blown back against the walls, and the hole above them opened a few meters wider in all directions.

"Sif," Steve said, and the Asgardian yelled back that she was alright.

"It's Afzal," Tony called through the comms. "He's got fifty more outside that I can see. I'm handling them."

"Do they have anything big?" Steve asked, as a lean man dropped through the hole and smiled at the two warriors on the floor. His chest was covered in explosives, some with the Stark logo, others with SHIELD and still others with a red, multi-pronged skull.

"Hail Hydra," he said, and pressed the button in the center of his chest.


	22. Harsh Light

The explosion shattered through the cafeteria, blowing out a wall on the far west which led into the hallways of the compound. Steve had thrown himself onto Sif, shoving her body beneath his and shielding his head with his arms. Chunks of shrapnel embedded into the backs of his arms and legs; the heavier Kevlar of the suit protected his torso.

His ears were ringing, and a set of hands pulled him face up. One of those hands gently slapped his cheek, and he opened his eyes while mumbling a protest. Sif was shouting at him; he only heard a high, tinny whine.

"Steve," she mouthed, "Steve!"

"I'm fine," he said, and his mouth felt full of marbles. Her expression told him that whatever he'd just said, it was  _not_  what he'd intended. Or maybe it was, and her disapproval was simply in response to his lie.

"Up," Sif mouthed. Steve tried to follow her command and his legs felt loose and untrained. He couldn't seem to convince them to move in the directions he chose, and Sif finally just hauled him to his feet herself.

"I heard my name," a voice said from the side, and Steve turned to see bright red and black and large white eyes.

"You heard explosions," Sif said, pulling Steve to the side.

"Basically the same. What happened to Captain Pitfall?" Wade slapped his cheek. "Don't die on me now, Cap - what if I need your eyeball for a secret door later?"

Sif shoved the man aside and pulled taut at Steve's eyelids. He blinked and brushed her hands away.

"I'm fine," he said a little more certainly, and Sif nodded.

"They've breached the compound, but this is the only way in," she said. Wade was shooting into the hole behind her, howling "You can't fight in here, this is the war room!" The phrase seemed familiar, but Steve couldn't quite place it.

"I suppose he's on our side, now," Sif was saying. "I would not trust that loyalty."

"You're really very pretty," Steve said, and it wasn't what he meant to say at all. Sif paused in her movements and stared at him, and he cleared his throat. "I said, have you heard from the others?"

"I can hear Banner now," she said, ignoring the previous comment. "Thor is outside with Tony - Natasha and Barton are in the lab, in case there is an attempt to steal the strain."

"Smart," Steve said and rubbed at his blurry eyes. Constant gunfire took him back, and he couldn't stop seeing himself surrounded by a forest.

"I've got to find Bucky," he slurred, and Sif clasped his shoulder. It was different now, somehow - he remembered that it was different, that finding Bucky wasn't a stupid plan because Bucky was  _alive_  -

"We will find him, but now we must defend, Steve. Do you understand?"

She pressed a gun into his arms; he cocked it on reflex, a soldier's instincts taking over to blot out his confusion.

"Let's go," he said with a nod, and joined Wade at the breach.

* * *

The sound of gentle waves greeted her when consciousness began to return. Lynn was lying on warm earth - sand, she realized when she moved her fingers through the silt. The air was warm and wet, and Lynn opened her eyes to a distant sunrise on the horizon.

She covered her eyes with one hand against the light, breathing deep and coughing. She swiped her fingers across her lip and drew them away to see blood. Sitting up was a painful chore, and she recognized that soon such movements would be beyond her.

She looked to the side to see Loki sitting on a rock, leaned forward and bunching his coat in odd patterns. He had his hands clasped, resting against his knees, and he was watching the sunrise.

"Where is this?" she asked, because she didn't know what else to say.

"Far from your realm," Loki said. "Far from any known realm, in fact - only Thor knows of its existence, and he will not think to look here."

Lynn tried to stand, fell back on her rump, and pressed a fist to her sternum. "There was an explosion, wasn't there? They're being attacked. We have to go back."

"We?" Loki chuckled. "And how will you fight, Amma Lynn? What good could you possibly serve?"

"I-I don't know," she said. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "I don't know, but, but we can't just sit here and -"

"I will not risk you," Loki said, and Lynn pressed her lips together.

"That's not your decision."

"Perhaps I am unclear," Loki said with a hint of threat. "I will not risk  _you_."

"Loki -"

"Is the sunrise not beautiful, Amma Lynn?"

She looked out and stayed silent, unwilling to admit that the view was astonishing. The air reflected colors she'd never seen in a spectrum she didn't realize existed.

"I am glad you like it," Loki said, "for it exists because of you."

Lynn dared not speak. Loki had the look of a man in confession, speaking of topics he was too ashamed of to admit in the open.

"I swore an oath," he said, "and I have honored it for no reason. I am the Silvertongue, the Oathbreaker - why should one small promise rule my actions? And yet, to disavow the oath is to forfeit your life to fate." Loki shook his head. "That I cannot abide."

He raised a hand and gestured in a wide arch before him. "All of this for the sake a single mortal girl, whose life will be gone to dust in less than a century. Less than a decade, if left to your devices - you do make the most terrible friends, Amma Lynn."

Lynn clenched her jaw and coughed, choosing to say nothing.

"Do you understand?" Loki dropped his eyes to the white sand beneath his feet. "I do not. I cannot abandon you, and I do not know why. So many lives I've taken - so many fates destroyed - and here you sit regardless, the one life I would mourn should it be lost by my inaction."

He clasped his hands again and laughed quietly. "My mother knows me well," he said, his voice defeated and lost.

Lynn looked away, embarrassed by his emotional outburst. She didn't know how to respond to this deluge of emotional attachment; she didn't understand what it could possibly mean for her future. Movement caught her eye, and she watched a small crustacean, possibly a type of crab, crawl across the sand and into the gently lapping water.

She jolted and hugged her knees.

"You shouldn't have brought me here, Loki." Lynn curled into herself, panting. "This thing I have, what if it gets into the system here?"

"Of course," he said after a while. "I did not think."

You never do, she wanted to say. The words perched at the edge of her tongue. She met his eyes, his wounded, hopeless eyes, and took his hand between hers. She held it safe in her palms for a moment, and offered him a small, hesitant smile from the ground.

"It's ok," she said, and the sudden surprise in his face told her that he had been anticipating her scornful reply. "You're not the biologist here, after all."

"I cannot save you." Loki looked down at their twisted fingers. "Your friends, Stark and Banner - I believed that they might, if I pushed them." He shook his head. "It was not enough time."

"There's still a few days," Lynn said. "They could still figure it out, if they're not blown up."

He snorted a quick laugh, looking askance at her. "You are a strange little mortal," he said with a bare smile.

"Well I'd have to be, to put up with my terrible friends." Her chest hurt; she dropped his hand and wrapped her arms around her upper torso, heaving a breath. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I thought you would like to see a new realm," he said. She blinked up at him and he shrugged one shoulder, dismissive of his motives.

"You thought during an attack was the best time to bring me?" Lynn asked, unable to hide her bafflement at the decision.

"You might not have another," Loki said. Lynn sucked in a breath and covered her mouth with both hands, holding in the cough which threatened to erupt. He reached for her, gently taking her under her arms and lifting her to her feet. He pulled her close, sat her in his lap and stroked her back in small, soothing circles.

"We are alone here, Amma Lynn," he said. She shivered despite the warm air around them. "I will tell no one."

She clung to his vestments, her fingers digging into the fabric and leather. She breathed deeply, trying to conceal the way her lungs jolted and breath hitched.

"My grandfather's funeral was a lavish affair," Loki said while his hand continued its slow, delicate circles against her back. "The entire kingdom mourned, and the embankment was swollen with Æsir when we set his body adrift into the water."

The sun-like star's rays hit them and heated their clothing. Lynn laid her head on his shoulder, too tired and drowsy to fight anymore.

"My father shot the arrow which set him alight," Loki said, and Lynn laughed quietly.

"I don't think I'll get a big send-off like that," she said. She couldn't stop the wet trails across her face, and closed her eyes in shame.

"I will see to it," the trickster said, and together they watched the star rise through her tears.

* * *

_Where is Loki?_

Thor's thoughts swam in troubling circles, rounding to the same question without answer. Loki had vanished the moment the first explosion rattled the compound; Thor had asked after his brother through JARVIS and been greeted with a video of his brother taking Lynn Creed and vanishing into the air. He commended the immediate reaction and worried over the consequences - were they safe? Where had Loki taken her?

He had no time to truly ponder, as the attacks came fast and relentless.

"Stark," he called through the earpiece, "they are taking covered in the mountain crevices."

"Can you light'em up?" Stark asked. The bright lights of Tony's suit constantly marked his location in the air, and their enemies took advantage by targeting rockets and gunfire in his direction. It served as a perfect distraction, for Thor landed behind them and swept three men from the cliff side with a swing of Mjolnir.

"Take cover, Stark," he called, and raised Mjolnir to the sky. Lightning struck directly down the center of the hammer, invigorating him and flashing around his body. He roared and flung the electricity in a wide perimeter, the force radiating out in a radial pattern.

" _Thor, wait_  -"

Tony's voice cut off as Thor's lightning slammed into an electromagnetic pulse generator, which flashed into life, fueled by his power. A shudder of energy slammed through the machine and magnified its effect one hundred fold; the pulse burst out across the mountainside, through the earth and into the air. The communicators fizzed all at once into dead silence; the compound shuddered as the power was knocked out in one jolt. The darkness surrounding them pitched into solid black.

"Stark," Thor boomed across the sky. "Banner!" He spun Mjolnir and lept into the air toward the compound.

* * *

"You can't keep me here, Loki," Lynn said later. "We need to go back."

"You are safe here," he said. He had started a small fire with his magic, and was heating a thin broth over the open flame. She had enjoyed watching him use incredible swirls of green to start a fire from nothing, only to pull out a box of Swanson's broth and pour it into a ratty old metal pan. Tony was rubbing off on him.

"You wouldn't have done this to Thor," she tried. Thor, who could survive almost anything, and seemed to be the only other person Loki would make allowances for.

"I would not let Thor come to harm, unless it was unavoidable."

Lynn had to remind herself that Loki had likely never had a friend of his own, and therefore never developed coping mechanisms for the protective urges he felt. Loki was over-dramatic and intense; of course he would take her far away from any danger, where nothing could harm her, because  _what else_  was there to do?

"You need to talk with Thor, and Tony," she said. She sat next to the fire where he'd left her. She'd brought up the danger of the smoke irritating her, and he'd scoffed. Now she saw why: a fire made from his magic had no smoke.

He snorted at her, and she shook her head. "I'm serious, Loki. This isn't healthy."

"And what could speaking with either of them teach me, Amma Lynn?"

"How to protect someone weaker than you," she said, bold as brass. He looked over at her, and the surprise written across his features was pure Asgardian haughtiness. She wondered if they ever admitted that they could be weak. She wasn't ashamed of the truth.

"Lesson one is how not to kidnap them and hide them away from the world," she said. Loki made a face full of consternation. "It's not a good protective measure, Loki."

"You are in no immediate danger," the trickster said. "You are not being showered in rubble, or isolated in a small white room. I would think you'd call this progress."

He was tense as he spoke, keeping his eyes downcast toward the fire. She couldn't figure out why, until suddenly she  _could_ , and her irritation softened.

"It's not that I want to leave you," she said slowly. His hands stopped stirring the broth, and she knew he was listening. "It's that I'm worried about  _my_  friends. Bring me here another time, when I'm not dying from some alien disease and Tony isn't maybe having his face shot off. I won't be asking to leave so fast."

He smiled ruefully. "But eventually?"

"Well," Lynn said, "it's not like there's a toilet out here."

His face made a strange set of features all at once, from amused to disgusted to hopeful, and she couldn't help it - she laughed.

"You will eat first," Loki said, "and then we will return."

Her mind screamed at her to insist, to remind him that he had power too and could turn the tide of whatever fight they'd left behind. But the way he looked now, the vulnerable sort of desperation - that would be lost. He would shut down, forever, if she rejected his care now. She thought of a slick panther bringing food to its helpless cubs, becoming frustrated when the meals were refused. Loki only knew to provide the most basic needs - shelter from danger, food. He didn't know how else to show he cared, and if she refused to allow him to try, his chances of learning in the future were dashed.

Lynn took a deep, ragged breath past the decaying tissue in her lungs, coughed, and wiped her mouth.

"Alright," she said quietly, and pretended she did not see the pleased way his mouth tilted in the firelight.


	23. Cluster

They were under attack over a mile away, and Tony was groaning as he slowly reached to pull the mask from his face. He had to get back to it, to join the group and rally their limited troops, but there were some drawbacks to having a heart that was no longer battery powered.

He pressed the emergency release and the body armor separated and fell to the ground on either side of him. With a grunt, he pushed himself to sitting. A cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.

"Don't move," an accented voice said, and Tony had to wonder if this person had any idea who he was talking to. He turned, raising both eyebrows, and sighed.

Afzal Bakaar had been watching the telltale lights in the sky, monitoring Tony's position at all times. While his forces stormed the compound, using ever-echoing explosions to clear the way, he tracked down Tony's downed position and debated the merits of taking a hostage versus exacting revenge. The choice became easier when he saw the unconcerned look on the inventor's face.

"I do this for my father," Afzal said.

"I know something you don't," Tony said.

Afzal wasn't interested. He braced the rifle against his shoulder in the same moment two blades slammed through his chest, puncturing both lungs.

"Yeaaaah," Wade howled. "Got the little bitch, didn't we?"

"I didn't kill your dad," Tony said to Afzal's hazy eyes. "If he was killed, it wasn't by me."

"Liar," the man choked as the blade were ripped backwards, disappearing from view.

"That's your last word," Wade said. "I hope you're proud." He pressed a boot to the man's back and shoved, shoving him to the ground A small puff of dirt wafted up from the impact.

"That was pretty cold, but appreciated," Tony said.

"I know right?" Wade raised his blades. "It's like I'm morally ambiguous or something."

Tony grunted as he pushed himself to his feet. "You're a prince, really."

"I'm so fucking deep," Wade said. "Chicks dig it."

"Tell me that wasn't to impress a girl," Tony said. "I'm not your type."

"A couple hotdogs and a warm beer, you'll be singin' a different tune." Wade pursed his lips and sucked in, kissing the air in Tony's direction.

"Lynn must be a saint for not killing you," Tony said.

"Hey, give her credit - she tried." Wade crouched next to Afzal's twitching body, looting him while the man gasped gently in his dying breaths. Tony watched him with raised eyebrows. "Dead center in the chest, I think. I can't remember. I'm sure it was impressive."

"She shot you?" Tony was surprised. He'd sent her to Natasha for those drills, but he'd always believed that in the heat of the moment, Lynn wouldn't pull the trigger.

Wade scratched a hand against the front of his suit until he found the hole, which he poked a finger through. He affected a bad Southern twang. "Are ya proud, Dad? Baby girl's all growed up."

"What's the fastest way back?" Tony asked, ignoring the jab. Wade straightened and set Afzal's Kufi on top of his head.

"C'mon, can't I have a little mystery here?"

Tony pulled the hat off, scowling. When Wade pouted, he shrugged. "My Pepper-would-disapprove meter was going off. Now march."

"Hey, who made you the boss here?"

Tony raised a gloves hand and charged the pulse. "I said march."

Wade was unimpressed. "He knows that won't kill me, right? Did he forget? Short memory, damn."

"It'll hurt like a bitch, though."

Wade raised both hands and grumbled. "You'd think saving a guy's life - I know, right?  _God_. Whatever happened to common decency?"

"Hey, remember that time you kidnapped our friend and everything that's happening now is entirely your fault?" Tony stepped closer. "Because I'm never going to forget that."

Wade began walking. "Can't I just say ten Hail Marys instead?"

Tony blasted the ground next to one of his feet, and Wade hopped to the side. "Fine,  _fine_. Hark, a cave!" He pointed into the shadowed hillside, then walked straight into what appeared to be the solid wall.

"Of course," Tony muttered, and followed behind.

* * *

"Heimdall!" Thor hollered into the air as he lifted Mjolnir, blocking several bullets at once. There was no light here, as the EMF had knocked out any source of electric power within the compound. The generators had yet to sputter to life.

Thor slammed Mjolnir into the chest of a charging foe and howled again for Asgard's guardian.

"Find Loki, tell him to come  _now!_ " Loki's magic could easily cast light into the shadows, and Thor found himself missing his brother's potential contributions to this fight.

"Thor!" a voice said from down the shattered hallway. Gunfire erupted in the direction of the voice, and was returned in kind. Thor ducked to the side, concerned that a bullet might ricochet into an ally. Moonlight shining through the cracks above them glinted off of Steve's shield and Thor's armor.

"Friend Steve," he called, "they are in the exact center of the hallway. I cannot strike them where they have taken cover."

"Sif -"

"They are too well entrenched," the lady warrior called. "We cannot hit them without light."

"Thor, hit me as hard as you can," Steve said. Thor did not argue. He twisted Mjolnir in his hand and charged outward, bullets bouncing from his skin as he ran. He leapt into the air and came down with a yell, his hammer striking the center of Captain Rogers' shield. The shockwave tore open the walls on either side and ruptured the nearby support beams. The rooms crumbled into dust, taking the screams of dying men with them.

Thor offered a hand, and Steve took it and stood, making a face as the dust settled around them.

"That is a trick that will not work with Natasha or Clint near," Thor said as Sif brushed chunks of rock wall from her hair. Steve only nodded.

"Loki has taken Lynn Creed," Thor said. Steve shook his head.

"One problem at a time," he said, and Thor again could not argue. "Natasha's working on the backup generators. She should -"

An explosion rocked the ground beneath them, and Steve cursed.

"What the hell is their goal?" He looked up and around. "They're attacking us as though we're the side show."

"Their primary focus is the compound," Sif said. "They attack us only when necessary."

"Why just the compound?" Steve wished Natasha or Bruce were nearby to come up with a solution. He'd even take Tony, obnoxious though the man was.

A high, piercing whistle drew all of their attention up. A missile was incomming, the rocket on the end flaring bright yellow against the night sky. Thor spun Mjolnir and soared upward, meeting the projectile head-on to collide with Mjolnir's edge. The explosion knocked him to the side and drove him through another section of concrete wall, scraping against the ground as he fell.

The lights remaining sputtered to life, and Natasha's voice blasted through the speakers.

"Guys," she called, "they're taking the strain from the lab!"

"What the hell for?" Tony's voice crackled. "It'll kill them!"

"Not before they get to the nearest city," Natasha said. Thor learned several new Midgardian terms from Tony's sudden ranting anger.

"They're trying to be carriers," Steve said from behind Thor. "Trying to spread the disease further."

"That is murder on a mass scale," Thor said, and Steve only nodded. Sif was pale behind him, eyes wide at the sheer vileness of such a plan.

"But this disease targets no one - it will kill their own people as well as their enemies," she said.

"Everyone's their enemy," Tony said through the speakers.

"They're working with Hydra," Steve said as he led Thor and Sif in a run toward the direction of the lab. Now Natasha's voice rang again.

"Are you sure, Steve?"

"I'm sure," he said. "It's us against everyone."

"Thor, I swear if you have any old enemies who could pop up, you'd better tell us now," Tony said.

"Now's not the time for confession," Barton said. The Hulk's angry roar echoed through the rubble from the direction of the lab. As they moved closer, they heard the sounds of glassware shattering.

"They all got in, now they're trying to leave," Natasha called over the speakers. "We can't let them out."

"No prisoners," Steve ordered, and opened fire into the lab.

* * *

"I'm full," Lynn said for the fourth time. Loki ladled another helping of thin broth and offered it to her. She huffed and pushed the bowl away, splashing droplets across his fingers.

"I'm  _full_. I can puke if that will make you believe me." She wasn't certain she could and not proceed to die from the coughing fit that was sure to follow, and Loki seemed to reach the same conclusion. He poured the broth back into the beat up old pot.

"I've eaten," she said, and she had. As quickly as possible Visions of Tony dead on the ground, Steve getting shot, Natasha captured - she cleared her throat to clear the worries. "Let's go back."

"I will return," Loki said as he stood. "You will remain here. This realm hosts no large beasts or threats."

Lynn wanted to argue, but arguing would waste time that her friends might not have. She took a deep breath, and coughed.

"What if you get hurt?" she asked. "No one else can get here."

Loki chuckled. "Mortal weapons cannot harm me, Amma Lynn."

"Well maybe they have some immortal ones." He merely looked at her. "They knew that at least Thor was going to be there, and Bruce...they must've come prepared."

"I cannot decide if your cleverness is relieving or tiring," Loki said. The small upward curve of his lips gave him away, and she let herself laugh so that he could see his tease accepted.

"It's only a pain when you're being difficult," she said. "That should be a clue."

"Of course," he said, and the small tilt became a real smile. "I should've known."

"Go help our friends," she said, and ignored the startled jerk when he looked at her. "Go on. I'll get some rest."

Loki raised one hand, lifted his index finger, and spoke in a faux stern voice.

"Stay," he said. He reached for the air, grabbed onto a branch she couldn't see and stepped from view, laughing as he went.

"You are  _such_  a jerk," she grumbled once he was gone.

* * *

Loki manifested inside of a dilapidated hallway and immediately received a blow to the face. He staggered back in surprise.

"Oh my God,  _yes_ ," Wade yelled. "I've been wanting to do that for  _days_."

"Loki?" Tony's face was illuminated in an odd blue, reflected back from the light in his palm.

"Oh, I mean  _oops_ ," Wade said.

"They're taking this show on the road," Tony said over the mercenary's shoulder. "We have to kill  _all_  of them."

"Finally, something I'm good at," Wade said. He slapped the back of his hand against the front of Loki's armor. "And you! Where's an evil alien army when you need a massacre, huh?"

"Shut up," Tony said in the same moment Loki said "Be quiet." Both men stared at each other warily, disturbed by the implied agreement of a shared sentiment.

Tony recovered first. "Go kill, Wade."

"Yes, Captain," Wade said, and sprinted down the lit corridor.

"Not us!" Tony amended as the mercenary disappeared from sight. The inventor looked at Loki and narrowed his eyes.

"Where's Lynn?" Tony asked, low, under his breath.

"Away from here and safe, which is more than you could've done," Loki said. He took offence at Tony's anger and the implied threat therein.

"We'll talk about communication later. Right now we're killing a lot of people. Can you handle that?" Tony's look hadn't changed, although there was a certain darkness as he asked the question, meeting Loki's eyes.

"She worries for you," Loki said. "She fretted that you were injured, or dead."

"Don't get jealous," Tony said. "She was my friend first."

"That is untrue," Loki said, and stopped a moment later, surprised by the sudden possessive swell within him. Tony was grinning, even as the beast's angry roars and gunfire echoed through the air around them.

"Gotcha," Tony said, and Loki grimaced at the term. "Hey, it's ok, but if you wanna date my daughter there's these eight rules I'm gonna run by you."

"I do not know what that means, and I imagine that's for the best," Loki said.

"Take me to Lynn," Tony said. "You'll come right back; I wanna check on her."

"You would abandon your friends?" the trickster asked.

"No, I'm swapping out for a better model. The suit's gone and you've got crazy magic powers or whatever, and Lynn's  _alone_." When Loki hesitated, he added: "They'll understand."

"Very well," Loki said, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It would be best to hold your breath."

"This better not take long," Tony said, and Loki reached into the air and drew them away.

* * *

When solid ground reappeared, Tony gasped for air and coughed. Loki laughed at him.

"So gullible," he said, as Tony glared at him before looking over the island they'd come to. At least, it might be an island. Either way there was sand and a long stretch of water. And Lynn, propped against a rock and apparently dozing, several yards away.

"Go back," Tony said absently, and started toward the young woman. Loki's hand remained on his shoulder; he paused, looked down at the fingers curled into his shoulder, and then up at the taller man with raised eyebrows.

Loki, for all intents and purposes, looked worried.

He released Tony's shoulder a moment later, nodded, and disappeared as Tony turned once again to the woman propped against a rock. He whistled loudly as he approached, and Lynn opened her eyes to look at him, hazy with her own grogginess.

"Look at you," he said with an easy smile. "Sleepin' on the job. I should have you fired."

"Tony, you shouldn't be here -"

"I can't get sick," he said, and sat down in the sand next to her. She opened her mouth, paused, then closed it, thinking hard.

"Can Natasha?" she asked, and Tony couldn't keep the grin from his face.

"Nope," he said.

"Not Clint, either? None of you?"

"Which means what?"

"But what about Loki and Thor," she said slowly. "They didn't carry a root at all."

"Still figuring that out. Thor thinks Loki might've cheated a little. I say, all the better for us."

Lynn leaned against him, trusting he was telling the truth and too sick to argue anyway. He nudged her with his elbow.

"As vacation places go, this is pretty sweet. Is there a hotel nearby to check into?"

"He said no one but Thor knows this place," Lynn said drowsily. "I told him he needs to talk to you and Thor about how to protect a weaker friend. Don't be a jerk when he asks."

"No promises," Tony said. "Jerk's my native language. Besides, what do I know about that? Pepper can kick my ass any day."

"I didn't mention that," she said with a grin.

"And I'm pretty sure Jane can kick Thor's ass if she really puts her mind to it." Tony considered. "Well, maybe. She's pretty small."

"Only because he'd let her," Lynn said. "It's the same with you. That's what Loki needs to learn - how to  _let_  someone be strong."

"He seems to handle you alright," Tony said. Lynn snorted quietly, which morphed into a small cough, which gradually increased until Tony was holding her in both arms, applying pressure to her back to try and relieve the fit. She took a shuddering breath and laid her head against his shoulder.

"You sass him enough, anyway," Tony said, as though there hadn't been an interruption. "And he still hasn't killed you."

Lynn had closed her eyes, and by the heaviness of her breathing Tony knew that she'd slipped away from him into sleep. He sighed and adjusted his grip, leaning back against the rock and keeping her safely tucked against his side.

"I can't really blame him, you know," Tony said to the air around them. "You get into the worst kind of trouble, kid."

* * *

As Loki stepped to his brother's side, Thor seemed relieved and annoyed by turns.

"Heimdall reached you?" the thunderer asked, and Loki scowled.

"You invoked him?" he asked, and at Thor's nod felt a strange sense of invasion. While it meant that Lynn would not be abandoned to her fate should something happen to the trickster, he had intended to keep her shielded entirely - from Thor, from Heimdall, from the entire universe save the base creatures of the realm itself.

The intrusion he felt was illogical, not to mention worthless. Knowing this did not cap the sudden annoyance which sprang into his tone.

"Can you not leave me be for a moment, Thor?" he said, and the thunderer only smiled and clapped him on the back.

"How I missed you," he said, and joined the fight.

In truth, there was little fight left; without the need to hold back, the Avengers had unleashed a type of fury unseen upon their assailants, decimating the compound in their efforts to kill the enemy. Only a few of their attackers remained, holed up inside of the laboratory itself and running low on ammunition, according to the yells between Clint and Natasha.

Loki looked down and saw the body of one of the fallen; his form shimmered and he took on the man's appearance from head to toe. He took up the fallen man's gun, then waded into the battle, ignoring any bullets which bounced from his form.

When he was spotted by the enemy, he was waved back into their position. He crouched with them and listened to the swirling conversations, picking up strands of their fear and their intentions.

Their plan shocked him cold.

He thought of Lynn, dying from this terrible disease which was ravaging through her species. There was only one origin, and from that origin only one could be blamed for bringing it to her home.

Not for the first time, he wished that Thor had allowed him to correct the error of his own birth.

It was too late now, and the men were preparing a final volley to force their way through. Some kind of explosive, which they intended to use to clear the way. Loki did not know if it would kill the Avengers close by, or if it would even work. Nor did he care. He raised the gun, took aim, and fired. The volley of shots sprayed through the men before him, and more than one shocked face met his before the light left their eyes.

They died seeing the face of their friend. Loki tossed the gun down and stood, arms raised.

"It is quite the merry band of murderers," he said. "I imagine Director Fury would be proud of his creation."

"Loki?" Steve's voice called, and as the debris slowly cleared from the air, Loki's form shimmered until the trickster stood before them.

"You really need to explain why you never did that during your invasion," Clint said as he lowered his bow.

"I prefer to keep you guessing," the trickster replied.

"Was that the last of them?" Steve asked. "JARVIS?"

"You and your team are all that remains, Captain Rogers." Steve nodded and looked around the room; Natasha and Clint were covered in dust and debris but unharmed. Sif was across the room, helping Wade to his feet with a look of utter scorn as the mercenary made passes at her. Thor was walking to his brother, and the diminishing roars in the background meant that Banner would soon join them.

"Where's Tony?" Steve said, and Loki felt all of their eyes abruptly turn in his direction.

"Of course," he said, and smiled. It made sense; he was the only threat left standing, after all.

"His suit was damaged. He is with Amma Lynn. They are both safe," he said. Steve looked at Thor, who nodded.

"Good job," Steve said brusquely, and Loki was certain that he had misheard. "Get them back here as soon as possible, I want the entire team assembled."

Loki began to speak, and Thor grasped his shoulder.

"Be silent, Loki," Thor said. "It is best that they think of your actions this way."

Loki pursed his lips, and said nothing.


	24. Steps

Loki stepped into the muggy air and paused to take in the sight ahead. Lynn and Tony were both leaned against the same rock; her head was draped on the inventor's shoulder, and she appeared to be asleep. Tony, in contrast, was wide awake, and raised a finger to his lips in a shushing motion.

Loki approached on quiet feet and stared down at the two of them, his expression a blank canvas.

"The good Captain has ordered your return," he said when Tony only looked up at him without comment. Loki's eyes flicked down to take in the woman curled against him. "Both of you."

"Guess the break's over," Tony said. He looked out at the scenery, admiring the view. "I gotta admit, this is pretty nice. You should build a little house or something, bring us all for a vacation." He looked up into a deep scowl, and raised both eyebrows.

"Unless of course this wasn't meant for anyone else," he said. Loki reached down to begin collecting Lynn.

"I will carry her," he said as Tony shifted her weight into the trickster's arms.

"Yeah, I just bet you will," Tony said. He looked and sounded bemused, and Loki straightened without acknowledging his tone. Lynn had woken during the jostling, enough that she peered at both men through shuttered eyes. Loki froze, looking down at her. Tony was here, and she could see him. Surely she would request to be put down and allowed to walk beside her mentor and friend.

She closed her eyes again and laid her head on his shoulder. He stood still a moment longer, then turned to meet Tony's gaze.

"We'll talk later," Tony said. "The boss wants us back, right?"

"Yes. Remember to hold your breath, would you?" Loki reached for the air slowly, careful not to wake Lynn just yet.

"Nice try," Tony said, and they stepped from the warm climate into the in-between.

* * *

"Do you think they'll try again, Natasha?" Steve was standing behind her as her fingers flew over a keyboard. The console in front of her flashed several images, one after another in rapid succession. She hit enter, and sat back with a weary sigh. A smear of blood leaked from a cut on her cheek, and rising bruises were forming on the parts of her hands he could see. The rest of them, save Thor and Bruce, were in similar states.

"Yes," Natasha said after a file popped up for her to peruse. "Hydra wanted a cleansing; the Ten Rings wants a cleansing. They're working to get what they wanted."

"Without the algorithm this time?" Steve couldn't understand the appeal of razing the earth. The entire point of Hydra's original plan was to leave their version of the worthiest standing.

"It's probably better that we don't understand," Clint said from behind them. "It means we're still human."

Natasha glanced back at the archer, sharing a brief look of mutual understanding. Steve sighed.

"But why did they target  _here_?" Bruce had his arms crossed over his bare chest, a pair of sweatpants sagging from his hips. "This thing isn't exactly contained. Why would they come here for it, when they can pick it up off the streets for free?"

'Maybe they thought we'd engineered a stronger bug," Steve guessed.

"Or maybe it really was about us," Tony said from the door. They all turned to see the inventor enter, followed by Loki carrying a barely waking Lynn. Steve approached and nodded to Loki, offering to take the woman from his arms. The trickster raised both eyebrows until Steve dropped his hands.

"Thanks for bringing them back," Steve said. "Tony, what do you mean?"

"I've been watching Bruce's progress – don't give me that look, you knew I was doing it." Tony winked at Bruce, then tilted his head back. "JARVIS, show the pictures."

An image which both Natasha and Bruce recognized flashed up on the screen.

"The macrophage is the large thing," Natasha said to the others. "That's the one we like."

"And it's doing what we want – eating the purple thing. Purple thing is the Ridley strain," Tony said. "This isn't Wade's blood."

"It's mine," Natasha said.

"All of our blood does this," Bruce said. Lynn had woken by now, and was watching the screen with bright interest.

"Everyone in this room, except one, is immune," Tony said. "You get one guess for who's not."

"It doesn't make sense, though," Lynn said. She tapped Loki's chest, and he shifted to allow her feet to meet the floor. She didn't step away, in case she wasn't as ready to stand as she thought she was. She spoke to Loki. "How are you and your brother immune?"

"You forget our superiority to your species," Loki said, and she narrowed her eyes in agitation.

"Oh, well, if that's the case, take me to  _your_  doctors. They'll patch me right up, right?"

Loki sighed. "I question my decision to revive you," he mourned, and Lynn began to straighten despite her exhaustion.

"That means that she is right," Thor said. Both of them turned to the thunderer, who watched Loki with a grim expression. "What did you do, brother?"

"What needed to be done," he rasped, bracing himself for a fight. "You needed to survive, Thor, no matter the circumstances."

"You wove it into Mjolnir," Thor said, "and by extension into me."

"It was a long time ago," the trickster said.

"It apparently has lasted," Thor said with a chuckle.

"Alright, so it's 'space mumbo jumbo' for Thor – what about you, Morto? What's your excuse?" Tony pressed a hand to Lynn's forehead, and she waved him away.

"He is bearing a root as we speak," Thor said over Loki's hissed protest.

"Right now?" Lynn asked, staring at his chest.

Thor met Loki's eyes and waited; the trickster huffed and dropped the illusion completely, to reveal the root torn through his chest plate and into his heart. His physical appearance waned as well, suddenly paler and less steady than moments before. Lynn pressed her hands over her mouth, while the remaining Avengers eyed the root as though they expected it to shoot from his chest and into theirs.

"A temporary measure," Loki said, "to be removed once the danger has passed."

"How did it not knock you on your ass?" Tony sounded offended.

"I am more than mere flesh and bones, Stark," Loki said.

"Alright," Steve said, "the point is everyone but Lynn is immune and Hydra and the Ten Rings want us all killed."

"They were trying to wipe out our work and a possible cure," Bruce said. "Now that we've fought them off, again, they'll try a new approach."

"In their position, I would attempt to create another ævi forn," Loki said. "It would allow total containment and an excess of delays, to ensure their plans are carried out without interruption."

"What I just heard was 'find the cure, stat,'" Tony said. "Anyone else get that?"

"Yes," Natasha said, and Bruce nodded.

"How much longer do we have?" He was looking at Lynn, who wiped the back of one hand against her mouth.

"I'm on day four," she said quietly. "The longest documented survival has been seven days."

"Nine," Bruce said. He shrugged at Lynn's confused look. "Case in Denmark, after you were taken."

"We'll be optimistic," Steve said. "Cure duty - Bruce and Nat, that's you. Lynn, you can help when you're able. We'll give however much blood you all need. Tony, can you fix your suit?"

"Is that a real question?" Tony asked.

"OK," Steve said, "since Loki's already working to protect Lynn, he stays with her."

Loki made every effort not to look down at Lynn, who had crossed her arms at the order.

"The rest of us will go after the Ten Rings," Steve said. As the massive, multi-armed head, Hydra would have to wait.

"That leaves us three down," Clint said.

They all turned to Wade, who had propped himself up onto a crate and appeared to be playing air piano while humming  _Bohemian Rhapsody_. The mercenary paused when he realized he had their attention.

"I'm sorry, I was busy being bored shitless. Is there something interesting going on now?" Wade raised one hand and cracked the edge of his glove against his wrist.

"That depends," Tony said. "How much do you hate the Ten Rings?"

"Lying bastards never paid me," Wade said. "Whatever happened to honor?"

"What do you know of honor?" Loki snarled, and took a step forward.

"Hup – nope, cool it," Tony said. "We're all about second chances in this outfit. Right Clint?"

"Fuck off," Clint said.

"Right," Tony said. Then, to Wade: "Help us find these bastards, we won't chain you to a rock and sink you to the bottom of the ocean. Fair?"

"That doesn't seem very humane," Wade said.

"Humane treatment is reserved for humans," Loki said. Thor stepped closer to his brother, his hand drifting to Mjolnir's handle.

"Ouch – he just smudged my Puma. You all saw it, right? He did that." Wade swiped a finger under a masked eye, feigning a sniffle.

"Wade?" Lynn said, and Wade groaned.

"Aw, c'mon babe." When she only looked at him, pitiful and shivering and barefoot as a Tarantino film, he threw up his arms.

" _Fine._  I'm charging per death."

* * *

"You are displeased with the arrangement," Loki said to Lynn's back. She was in her own quarters now, since none of the others were susceptible to the strain. She'd bargained for normal clothing, and taken a shower with Natasha's help. Standing for long periods proved more trying than she was willing to admit, and Natasha and Sif had accompanied her back to her room before letting any of the men near her.

She felt mentally refreshed, clean, and physically ill. The coughing happened at the same frequency, and she kept a cup to spit blood into nearby. She was sitting at the desk Tony had insisted she have, staring down at the slide images provided by Bruce. Loki sat on her bed, his back against the wall as he slouched across her sleeping space. She'd only laughed when he first sat; he had no intention to move unless she forced him to.

She couldn't help but think of a big cat.

Lynn was worrying her bottom lip, and shrugged.

"Nobody likes being babysat," she said. "I haven't had an hour alone in days."

"Do you long for privacy?" Loki asked, uncertain of why he cared to ask.

"Sometimes," she said. "I'd mind more if I wasn't sick." She turned to him, one elbow draped over the back of her chair. "Most cases are bedridden by day four. Walking isn't fun, but I can still do it."

Loki said nothing, though he couldn't muster enough to feel surprised.

"Too clever," Amma Lynn," he murmured. "Your mortality is a waste."

"How long did you give me?" she asked.

"The stasis cannot be maintained entirely," Loki said, "to allow other functions to persist. I had to shrink it down to a smaller level, to…" He paused, uncertain of how to explain it.

"To a cellular level," she said, and showed him the picture. She pointed to the purple beast which was held at bay inside of her system. "You're keeping this still, aren't you?"

"It is relatively simple," he said. "The seiðr need only adhere to the parts of you which are not of your realm."

"Simple," Lynn said.

"Yes," Loki said. "Everything in your realm follows a particular code of conduct, even down to what you call the  _cellular_  level. The seiðr merely attaches to that which is foreign, and holds it in place."

"You can separate it like that?" Lynn's eyes were distant, almost glazed.

"Of course," Loki said. "It is how the tether works."

"How long?" she asked again.

"I am unsure," he said. "I am stretched every moment."

"The root," she said.

"It is fine," Loki said, and smiled at her scowl. He watched her expression and saw the precise moment when she decided to let the lie stand.

"What you're doing to me – how far can you spread it?"

"I do not intend to tell the others," Loki said with some force. "They would demand far more than I am capable of giving."

"Then you told the wrong person," Lynn said. "You're saying you can use your magic to find this thing, right? Attach to it specifically?"

Loki narrowed his eyes, but nodded.

"JARVIS," Lynn said, "get Jane on the line,  _now_."


	25. Plan

_I miss the compound._

"You mean the smoldering wreck we abandoned?" Wade snorted. "We're better off."

_Nice exposition._

"Shut it. They'll figure it out."

_Why are you doing this again?_

"I'm an ass man," Wade said.

_You weren't even looking at her ass._

"What is this, out of sight out of mind? I have a great imagination, thanks."

_Can't argue there._

"Exactly," he said. "Stop questioning me."

"Seriously, who is it?" Tony was watching him from across the small jet's hull, head bobbing slightly as the plane reacted to turbulence in the air. "Dead sibling's ghost?"

"If I say Satan, would you be impressed?"

Tony rolled his eyes, and Wade sighed loudly. "I thought you guys were fun."

_Who told you that?_

"You did!" Wade felt betrayed.

_I did not._

"We're oodles of good times," Tony said drily. "I should be home throwing inappropriate parties in the corporate lobby of my company."

_Seems like a waste of resources._

"So long as there's beer," Wade said. "There should always be beer."

"Someone else speak," Tony said. "I can't hold this by myself."

"There is little to say," Sif said from the front of the hull. She stood close behind Steve and Clint, who were piloting the jet. "Steve is far more compassionate than I."

It was the closest she'd come to outright questioning Steve's decision. Thor stepped to her and laid a hand on her shoulder; she smiled at him briefly before turning her eyes forward again.

"This is the most boring party in the world," Wade said.

_Masque of the Red Death bad?_

"You know what would be hilarious?" Wade balanced one sword on the tip of his finger. "If you guys were like, what was that chick's name? Typhoid Mary. Yeah. That'd be a downright laugh riot."

"Oh, dammit," Tony said.

"What does that mean?" Thor asked.

"She was a disease carrier who didn't get sick, but she spread it all around with her evil cooking," Tony said. "That could be us. We must be covered in this thing."

"Then we must not allow ourselves to enter the company of others," Sif said.

"Steve, stop the car," Tony called to the cockpit. "We're going back."

"I love it when I make a good point," Wade said.

* * *

Safely housed within the Avengers tower, quarantined from all of the lower floors, Lynn adjusted the brightness of the image so that her eyes weren't burning. Loki watched the process with overt concern, and squinted at the dim result. He guessed that another mortal would struggle to make out anything on such a low setting, but refrained from complaint. Lynn seemed happier with the darker image.

"Jane, you studied the thing I was in, right?" Lynn asked once she was satisfied.

Jane's shaky image nodded, watching Loki over Lynn's shoulder.

"It's a time pocket," she said, "pretty literal name."

"Loki, tell her how the tether works," Lynn said. Loki blinked and creased his brow at her.

"You cannot possibly think -"

"Tell her." Lynn fixed him with a solid, narrowed glare, and he sighed.

"Very well," he said. Jane raised both eyebrows and glanced at Lynn, who had leaned back in her chair. Loki spoke to the dark mirage hoving over the desk.

"The seiðr attaches to a specific pattern," he said. "If I wish to apply a tether to Amma Lynn, that tether will attach to her and none other."

"Does that work with anyone?" Jane asked.

"Yes," Loki said.

"It's specific to a biological pattern," Lynn said, growing excited. "And as you get smaller, the patterns get less singular."

"A single-celled organism basically clones itself, right?" Jane waited for Lynn to nod before continuing. "So at the microscopic level, the Ridley strain is close to identical."

"Close enough for the seiðr to work," Lynn said. She butchered the word, her accent drawing out the vowels until the final  _ðr_  was a mere parody of itself. Loki chuckled fondly, and Jane couldn't stop the fascinated look which spread over her face.

"What does this have to do with the time pocket?" she asked. Lynn was too invested to stop now; she leaned forward, coughing once and smearing blood across her cheek as she wiped the back of one arm against her mouth.

"The, the uh," she paused.

"The ævi forn," Loki said.

"The that thing," Lynn said, "it's a container, right? At the basic 'I'm not a physicist' level, it's a type of container?"

"Yes," Jane said. "Loki said he can make one."

Lynn paused at the new information.

"OK," she said, "that might help. Loki's got his magic working in me right now, attached to this thing to keep it from, from growing."

"Growing?" Jane asked.

"Multiplying, dividing. I've been stuck on day three since he brought me back."

Jane was scrawling in her notebook. "So the magic can contain the Ridley strain specifically, because its pattern is identical enough at that level," she said. "And he can make a time pocket."

"I am aware of how Amma Lynn expects these ideas to converge," Loki said. "I have told her that I am not strong enough, by far."

"That's where you come in, Jane," Lynn said. "If he builds it, can you help? Can you power it, or, or power  _him_?"

"You want me to power up the guy who tried to enslave Earth?"

Lynn blinked, and sat back again. Loki, now standing at her side, looked down at her with an expression caught between smug vindication and apology.

"Yes," Lynn said, and both of them looked surprised. "That's exactly what I want."

The silence grew awkward, and Jane busily tried to avoid looking at the tall Asgardian standing to Lynn's right. She folded her arms, pulled her legs up into the chair, and sighed.

"Jane, if he wanted to destroy everything, he would've already. He helped  _fix_  it. That's a lot of effort just to let it die now."

"I know Thor trusts you," Jane said to the trickster. "And I know Lynn trusts you. But I don't trust you. I saw what you did to Coulson. Erik -"

Jane paused, sucked in a sharp breath.

"Erik still hasn't recovered," she said.

Lynn looked up at Loki, whose face was void of reaction. She nudged his hip with one elbow, which made him jolt and look down at her. She raised her eyebrows. He sighed.

"I cannot undo what has already occurred, Jane Foster," he said. "I can only remove the last vestiges of my error."

"Why would you do that?" Jane asked, her sharp eyes narrowing at him. "What do you care?"

"I do not want Amma Lynn to die," Loki said. Jane glanced at Lynn, who shrugged helplessly. "I thought an ultimatum would force her friends' hands, but it was not enough. I cannot hold back this disease indefinitely. If you will lend your help…"

Loki trailed off into nothing, uncertain of his place. He did not know if he could succeed in such a maneuver; the power required far exceeded anything he had called upon in the past.

"If you can sustain the ævi forn, I may be able to draw the strain in," he said. "Then it is simply a matter of collapsing the energies to destroy it."

"The data I got from the last one should help me to design a device, similar to the the one Erik made," Jane said. "I'll need the exact coordinates to use."

"You shall have them," Loki said.

"Guys," Steve's voice called over the intercom, "we're on our way back."

"What happened?" Natasha asked, her voice muffled through the surgical mask she must be wearing.

"The asshole made a good point," Wade said, and let out a yelp as though he'd been struck.

"We're all carriers," Tony said. "We can't go anywhere without spreading this shit. So we're coming back."

"That's good," Lynn said. "You can help with my plan."

"Lynn has a plan?" That was Clint, who sounded honestly surprised. Lynn bristled; Jane joined the conversation.

"She has a  _good_  plan, if we can work it. Thor, Tony, how much Asgardian metal is there? Enough for a five by five machine?"

"Yeah, that's doable," Tony said.

"I can fetch more if needed," Thor said.

" _No_ , thunder thighs, you and baby bro don't go nowhere near home, got it?" Tony sounded annoyed.

"My thighs are not made of thunder," Thor said.

"I'll let Jane be the judge of that," Tony said, and Jane's face, even with the darkened image, seemed to purple.

"Call me when they get in," she said, and the image flickered out.

"What was  _that_ about?" Loki looked down at Lynn, perplexed. She only laughed, and refused to answer.

* * *

"Bruce, give us some good news," Steve said as they walked into the lab. Bruce and Natasha kept their heads down, both standing over a microscope. Natasha was peering into the scope while Bruce prepared a second slide.

"We need uninfected blood to work with," Bruce said. "Normal human blood. We're shooting in the dark without that."

"How's the science network?" Tony asked. "Anyone else getting anywhere?"

"You'd think a massive outbreak would be enough to cut through regulations," Natasha said. "You'd be wrong."

"We're the only ones working outside of any regulations," Bruce said. "It gives us the most freedom with the least access."

"Lynn, we're back," Clint said. "I sure hope your plan is better than ours."

"So long as you're comfortable with guesswork and magic, it's the best plan ever made," she said through the connection. Natasha and Tony grinned, while Clint looked worried.

"This plan involves Loki?" Sif asked for all of them.

"Come to my room, and get Jane on the line," Lynn said. "We'll explain everything."

"Great, Foster's involved," Tony said. "See what happens when you let them have opinions?"

"That's what I've been saying," Wade said, and earned a sour look from Sif and Natasha for his troubles.

* * *

The entire group was sitting, reclining, standing or otherwise inside of Tony's penthouse. Pepper had been banished to the West coast, where the strain was kept at bay by an aggressive isolation campaign and total shut down of all trade routes. Tony had already declared that the entire penthouse would be scrubbed top to bottom, five times, with bleach, ethanol and possibly a flamethrower.

Lynn, sitting leaned against the arm of Tony's couch with her feet tucked under his thigh, assured him it wouldn't be necessary if this plan worked, but Tony said he wouldn't take any chances. Not with Pepper.

"Huh," Bruce said, and Clint propped himself at the end of a couch with thinned lips. He was looking at Loki, who stood near the windows with loosely crossed arms and a relaxed smile.

"You're sure this could work?" Natasha asked Tony and Bruce. Both men glanced at each other, and Jane, who watched from a screen, huffed.

"Yes," she said, "we're all sure. You just listened to us debate it for an hour."

"Once it's contained, the Ten Rings and Hydra lose their trump card," Steve said.

"The fight goes back to normal," Tony said. He raised a whiskey glass and toasted the idea. Under Steve and Lynn's watchful eyes, he'd filled the glass with mere apple juice, and grimaced at every sip.

Lynn coughed, a sputtering, harsh sound, and covered her mouth with both hands. Thor rubbed her back in soothing circles, and Loki watched from the windows.

"Like 'em?" Tony asked the trickster. "That one's brand new, I bet you remember why."

"What happened?" Lynn asked, and the entire group looked at her. Wade raised his hand.

"I don't know either," he said. "Story time?"

"I threw Stark through the window," Loki said into the silence. "As you can see, he survived."

Lynn looked at Tony and shifted closer. He batted away her fingers when she reached for him.

"It was over a year ago, kid. No more damage, OK?"

She dropped her hand.

"Well damn, no wonder this plan is so  _awkward_ ," Wade said. "Is there anyone in here he hasn't kicked around?"

Bruce cleared his throat, and Wade raised his arms in a V.

"Alright, girls, where do we start?" asked Tony.

"We need every bit of Asgardian metal you have. Thor, you're going to help with shaping it." Jane was looking down, reading from a list she'd made in her notebook. "Tony, Bruce, you help with design - Loki, you too. It's your magic we're working with."

"Very well," the trickster said.

"The rest of us will be busy guarding," Steve said. "Nothing gets in, nothing goes out."

"Kill anything that moves?" Wade sounded painfully optimistic.

"So long as it's an enemy," Steve said.

"License to kill," Wade said. "Alright."

As Steve gathered his troops and led them away, Loki approached Lynn and crouched in front of her. Tony stayed next to her, Thor behind - she was surrounded, blocked in by three stubborn men, and she suddenly realized that all of them were communicating around her without saying a word.

"Kid, it's time to rest now," Tony said. He rested a hand on her knee, trapping her in place - or making sure she couldn't kick him with that leg, she couldn't really tell.

"I'm not tired," she said. She looked at Loki, who didn't react, then up at Thor, who smiled warmly down at her.

"You're sick and you need to rest," Tony said. "I'll let you have a real bed and everything."

"I'm not a dog, Tony -"

"Rest, Amma Lynn," Loki said. He braced one hand against the couch, close to her hip without touching. "You have done well, and now you may focus on healing."

"I won't heal until this thing is - Thor, stop,  _stop it_  -"

Thor had simply reached down and taken up the small woman. He turned to Tony.

"Where shall I take her?" he asked over her protests.

"Put me down - put me down! I can walk on my own!"

"A block, room 113. It's nice, you'll see, kid."

He looked at Loki.

"Go with them," he said. "If she's going to chew Thor's face off, I bet you'll enjoy watching."

Loki rolled his eyes, and went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With apologies to Mary Mallon.


	26. Compulsion

"JARVIS, show me the data Bruce and Nat have been working on." Lynn was speaking even before Thor set her down on the floor, letting her choose where she would go in her quarters. Thor patted her shoulder and asked if she needed anything further; she shook her head and hugged him in thanks before he left.

Loki waited in the doorway until Thor was gone, and remained in the same position after he'd left. Lynn sat at her work station and crossed her legs, shrinking into the back of the leather chair Tony had given her. She flipped through the first images JARVIS displayed, then blinked and looked back where Loki still stood.

"In or out?" she asked. "I don't know if they need you yet for the machine."

"It is harder to relate to them," Loki said as he stepped in and allowed the door to swing closed. "Although I feel that I am better company."

Lynn snorted. "You can't possibly be saying you're tamed."

Loki bristled. "I am saying nothing of the sort."

"House trained?" She looked at him when he didn't respond to see confusion, and laughed. "Nevermind, it'd just make you angry anyway."

"I'm grateful for your superior judgment," he said drily. She chuckled and enlarged the image on the screen, focusing on a small dot inside of the purple organism. Loki stepped closer to watch, trying to see what she found so fascinating in the simple-seeming design.

He gave in to curiosity with a scowl.

"What are you trying to see?" he asked, folding his hands behind his back.

"A pattern," she said. "The one your magic sees. If this doesn't work, that could be the key to a vaccine, or a treatment." She sighed and leaned back, waving a hand at the image. "That's its nucleus."

"And this?" Loki pointed to the larger cell engulfing the strain.

"Macrophage," she said. "Part of our immune system, helps us stay healthy." She warmed to the topic, leaning in and pointing to the outer lining of the cell. "That's its membrane. We're eukaryotic, it makes a difference in the membrane. Here's what's weird." Lynn enlarged the picture further. "See this? The membranes look similar. It's like the strain is eukaryotic, like us, but, but it acts like a prokaryote. But it's larger than them, as large as a yeast cell."

"Is that the pattern you think could be used?" Loki leaned his hands on the back of her chair, and she huffed.

"It could be part of it," she said.

"And these?" He leaned forward, somewhat over her, and pointed at the smaller organelles surrounding the inner portion of the macrophage membrane. "These seem almost similar to the strain."

"Mitochondria," Lynn said. "They provide -"

She stopped, blinked, and sat up straighter. "JARVIS, enlarge the Ridley here. I want to see the inner membrane, as clear as possible."

As JARVIS increased the resolution, Lynn pulled up Bruce's summarized results report and began reading. She looked from the reports to the images, and raised her eyebrows.

"Huh," she said.

"Yes?" Loki shook the chair slightly, a reminder that she had an audience.

"Look, you see this?" She pointed to a chart which indicated no changes over a period of time. "They were testing redox susceptibility, with hydrogen peroxide." She looked at Loki, who raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry," she said. "Basically, they were using a dye that stains inside mitochondria. But here, look at the pattern - JARVIS, pull up a MitoSOX stain image."

She set the Ridley strain and JARVIS' provided image other next to each other.

"The red appears to follow the membrane," Loki said carefully. He was unfamiliar with what she was referring to, but the difference in red outline was obvious.

"And in the Ridley strain there's nothing like it - it just appears at random, no pattern. See that?" She flipped through the files. "JARVIS, has Bruce tried to isolate mitochondria from this thing yet?"

"There is no documentation of an attempt at organelle isolation," JARVIS said.

"They don't have mitochondria," Lynn said. She coughed, breathing hard from excitement. "They're not like us, they didn't evolve like us, they're missing that step -"

"You must calm down, Amma Lynn," Loki said. "You might choke yourself."

She waved off his concerns with a fluttering hand. "Bruce? You in the lab?"

"Yep." His voice was scratchy through the intercom. "What's up, Lynn?"

"Have you stained it with MitoTracker?"

"I can't say I know what that is," Bruce said, "so I guess the answer is no."

"Try it," she said. "I think it doesn't even have mitochondria."

"Power house of the cell, right?" Bruce said. "That's what they always said in school."

"That's right," Lynn said. "Without them, we wouldn't function."

"The energy source," Loki murmured behind her. She snapped her fingers at him, grinning, and he knew he had followed her correctly.

"Where does its energy come from, Bruce?" She was talking faster, energized by the potential. "It acts like a eukaryote, but it has a different power source. It could be how Loki's magic tells it apart."

"Like but not like," Bruce said. "We've been treating it like it's another species like us -"

"But it's not," Lynn said. "It's  _nothing_  like us. It must be stealing its resources, whatever it needs -"

"I'm on it, Lynn," Bruce said. "Loki with you?"

"I am here," Loki said when she raised her brow at him.

"Just checking," Bruce said, and cut the connection.

"Your friends are acting strangely," Loki said. Lynn ran her hand through the images in front of her face, swiping them away and blanking the screen.

"You're acting strange," she said, glancing from the corner of her eye at him. "You're being nice, cooperating. It's throwing everyone off."

"Is it truly so strange?" Loki asked. "Perhaps I should stop. I wouldn't want to ruin a well-earned reputation."

She laughed, and he found himself smiling easily at her. The expression was so foreign, the emotion so alien that he turned away and began to stroll around her quarters, inspecting all of the random elements strewn about. Tony had carted in all of her possessions, and on the desk near her hand a small blue fish with lovely green speckles on his fins drifted lazily in his bowl. She reached for a small bottle, uncapping it and pinching a bit of food into the bowl. The fish glided toward the top and poked at the surface, eating with small ripples of water.

He picked up her guitar by the neck and swung the bass into his free hand, looking over the older, dented instrument with a critical eye.

"You could purchase a new instrument, couldn't you?" he asked. Lynn looked over at him.

"I could," she said slowly. "I don't want to."

"Is there some reason for that?" Loki offered her the guitar and she took it, bracing it against her legs in a protective clutch. He studied her carefully and wondered what the damaged piece of wood and string could possibly mean to her.

"It was a gift," she said hesitantly. She didn't want to talk about it, and Loki felt more intrigued for her resistance.

He flickered his fingers through the air and drew forth a thick book with unevenly cut pages. He set the book on the desk, and she reached immediately to pull it open and look through the contents. The language perplexed her, but the images interested her. She ran a finger across an illustration of a bilgesnipe, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Is this a fairy tale book?" she asked, now tracing the elegant script which described the creature's assorted features and lifestyle. Loki shook his head.

"This is a book of Asgardian species," he said, turning the page to a Marmennill.

"That's a merman," Lynn said slowly.

"They are capable of foretelling future possibilities," Loki said.

"They're real?" Lynn cleared her throat. "Are there female ones too?"

Loki nodded, and Lynn huffed, eyes bright in amusement.

"You know how many girls wished they were mermaids?" she asked. "It's almost insulting to know it could've happened for real."

"Of course, you would have to accept that you would be known as the Margygur," Loki said.

"Hm," Lynn said. "That does present a problem." She was grinning and flipping to another page, bright and engaged. Loki ran a finger along the edge of the cover, fueling the magical charms within, and the images sprung to life. Lynn laughed with delight as colors flooded the pages and the creatures began to shuffle impatiently, as though antsy from having to stand still for so long.

"This is amazing!" Lynn flipped back to the bilgesnipe, which now tossed its great antlered head and snorted loudly in complaint at being disturbed. "I feel like I could pet it."

"You wouldn't want to pet one of those," Loki said. "They are very temperamental animals."

"I bet I could tame one," she declared. "A good handful of apples would sweeten him right up."

"So it's a male, is it?" Loki settled on the desk, gratified by the lack of creaking wood. Tony had fortified all of the furniture throughout the tower specifically for his Asgardian - and Hulkish - guests.

"The grumpy ones are  _always_  males," she said with a wink.

"My mother gave me this tome," he said, and paused when she blinked at him. She pulled her hand away and gripped the neck of the guitar.

"Mrs. Turner bought this for me," she said slowly. "It was a welcoming gift when I went to live with them."

"Mrs. Turner is the woman you are sometimes arguing with on the phone, isn't she?"

Lynn laughed. "It's not arguing. She just worries for me."

Loki pushed the book closer to her.

"I think you will enjoy this," he said. "Keep it."

Lynn wasn't fooled by the veneer of sentimentality. "In exchange for what?" she asked, suspicion making her cautious.

"You have only sung for me once," Loki said. She looked down at the instrument and her fingers tightened on the wood. Loki continued carefully, seeing the tension across her shoulders.

"And the memory is not pleasant," he said gently. She looked up at him, pulled in her lips and looked down. She plucked at a few strings of the guitar, fiddling with the knobs on the head. "I know I have hurt you, with my words and past actions."

"If you apologize I'll never forgive you," she said tightly.

"Then I won't." Loki gestured at the guitar. "Play us a song, Amma Lynn. A better memory to call upon, in times of need."

"How many needy times do we have to have?" Lynn asked. She was trying to sound amused, and her voice cracked with the effort.

"I am not a good man, Amma Lynn." She met his eyes, said nothing. He looked down. His fingers were carded together, twitching, wrenching the joints. He hadn't realized he'd moved at all. "I will not promise to do better. I can't be held to such a pledge."

"It's not your nature, Loki," she said. "I wouldn't ask that of you."

He felt twisted, weak, exposed. He sucked in a breath through his nose and leaned back on the desk.

"Ask something of me," he said. He couldn't face her. "You must ask  _something_  of me. Otherwise, I may never..." He trailed away. He didn't know what he was supposed to learn, how he was supposed to proceed into the dark uncertainty of former enemies becoming comrades.

"I expect you to be exactly what you are," she said. "Isn't that enough?"

"I accept my limitations. I am the sort of man who needs guidance."

"Are you asking me to leash you?" Lynn shook her head, making a face. "You'll fight the bit of any bridle."

"I have fought every bridle ever forced upon me, every superimposed limitation and perceived constraint - save one."

Lynn said nothing. She set the guitar down at her side; her brow was creased.

"I fight myself as I once fought those commands," he said. "Every moment of my life is spent struggling against my own impulses, my nature. You understand the cruelty inside of me, Amma Lynn. You have seen a little, and that was restrained."

She saw the corpses of thousands of Chitauri, frozen for miles of terrain on their home planet. She flinched and looked away.

"Please," he said, so quietly that she did not hear him. He raised his voice, his eyes fixed on a spot on the far wall. The clock. The door. Anywhere but her. "Please."

Lynn was staring at him; he could feel the sting of her shock and confusion. She didn't understand what he was asking, and he couldn't blame her. He had never  _asked_  for such a thing - not from his brother, his mother, his cursed father.

He slid from the desk and sank to both knees before her. He met her eyes and saw discomfort contorting her features.

"Loki, stop -"

"Please," he said. He rested his hands on her knees, a supplicant before an uneasy idol. She reached to push his hands off of her. He caught her hand in both of his, closing his eyes as they watered with the onslaught of emotional need flooding him.

"Get up," she said. " _Stop it,_  Loki." She stopped trying to pull her hand free. "You're practically a  _god_. This  _isn't right._ "

"Extract a pledge," he said. "Demand an oath. Compel me toward integrity. I cannot on my own, Amma Lynn. I have tried, and failed. I need a stronger hand to restrict me."

"I can't -"

"You  _can_ ," he said. "You  _have_." He breathed heavily through his mouth, lowered his forehead to her knees. She was frozen above him.

She wanted to remind him of her limitations, her own mortality. She might not last the month, and then where would his leash be?

If she helped him see how to accept limitations, how to control his own cruel instincts, he wouldn't need the leash forever. He could live freely, openly. He could stand at his brother's side, and earn the trust of others through actions rather than lies.

She stroked the fingers of her free hand into his hair, tentative at first. He did not move save for a slight shudder. He expected her to push him away.

"Alright, Loki," she said quietly. His hands clenched around hers without causing her pain. She smiled and traced her nails against his scalp. "I'll think of something, alright?"

He sat back on his haunches, the image of a contrite cat realizing it had let loose a plaintive cry. His nostrils flared, and he pushed himself to his feet with great dignity.

"And I won't tell anyone," she said as he released her hand. "JARVIS, delete this recording from your records."

"Yes, Miss Creed," the A.I. said. Lynn picked up her guitar and strummed, tuned a few minutes, then strummed again.

"I'll play you a song," she said. "JARVIS will let us know when you're needed to help the others."

He hesitated as she began the tune, trust warring with pride, until finally he curled his legs underneath himself and settled on the floor before her, content to listen to the soothing sounds of her music until called upon.

He did not speak again.


	27. Pledged

Tony was standing next to Bruce, watching the odd scene ongoing in Lynn's room. The woman had quickly realized that singing was difficult due to her illness, and shifted to musical arrangements without lyrics.

"I should say something about music and savage beasts, right?" Tony glanced at Bruce, who was rolling his eyes.

"Maybe not classy enough," Tony said. "JARVIS, give me audio."

"Yes, sir." The intercoms opened, and Loki looked up toward the ceiling.

"Your freakish alien hearing is noted," Tony said.

"What's up, Tony?" Lynn's voice was scratchy through the speakers.

"Send Mork down," Tony said. "We could use his freakish alien eyeballs."

"My eyes are not freakish," Loki said. "They are merely superior."

Lynn laughed. "Careful, your humble is showing."

"It is hardly my priority to shelter you from the shortcomings of your species."

"There's no need to be jealous of us," Tony said. "If you ask nicely, we'll even share Pez."

"Your bargain is acceptable," Loki said, and Lynn laughed.

"Did he just make a joke?" Bruce asked. "A real joke, with a follow-through and everything?"

"I think so," Tony said. "Check the water, it might be drugged."

"Don't worry," Lynn said. "I'm sure he'll be back to his surly, grumpy self in no time."

"Tony inspires me so," Loki said.

"Play nice, boys," Lynn said. She set the guitar down, and Loki watched her ease of out of her chair with a flinch. "I'll take the opportunity for some rest."

"How are you feeling, kid?" Tony glanced at Bruce, who was watching his patient's efforts with thinned lips.

"Fantastic," Lynn said, and Tony regretted that she'd spent so much time around him. She was picking up his bad habits.

"Yeah well,  _fantastic_  looks a little different than I remember," he said.

"Staring into the sun is like that," Lynn said haughtily. She coughed hard enough that her throat rasped, and Loki glanced up in the direction of the camera.

"Signing off," Tony said. "Take care of her and then get down here." He swiped a hand across the video display, and the live feed minimized.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was getting better," Bruce said.

"Don't tell Thor," Tony said. "He'll be impossible to live with."

* * *

"Don't you think this is a little bit of overkill?" Wade tugged at the bands wrapped around both of his wrists. "I promise not to run."

"You're so trustworthy," Natasha said, and cinched another cuff in place on an ankle.

"I fought with you guys, didn't I?" He huffed. "I'm probably a good guy now. Give me my badge."

"There's no badge," Natasha said, and clapped the final cuff in place. All four were linked to chains which attached to the wall behind them. When Steve had asked Tony why he even had a room like this, Tony simply said, "You never know."

"A medal? A pie? There should always be pie."

Natasha sighed.

"And ice cream," Wade said. "Ice cream is always a good idea."

"Unless you're lactose intolerant," Clint said from behind Natasha, his bow in his right hand. She snorted quietly.

"God,  _fine._  Gelato. Nobody argues with gelato."

"I might argue with it," Clint said. "I don't even know what that is."

Wade scoffed. "You stupid Americans."

"I'm pretty sure I'm not American," Natasha said. "At least, I didn't start that way."

"Don't tell me you're from Quebec," he said.

"моргала выколю, падла."

"You just became 500 percent hotter," Wade said. "I'm swooning."

"You done, Natasha?" Barton looked ready to chew glass. Wade gave him a double thumbs up, and Natasha turned and nodded at the archer. The assassins exchanged a small smile between them, and Natasha walked to the door of the room and swung it shut.

"About time," Clint said. He knocked an arrow, aimed, and loosed the bolt. Wade looked down at his chest, where the arrow stuck out from the top of one pectoral muscle.

"Oh come  _on_ ," he said as he pulled out the arrow, "what'd I do  _now_?"

"It's interesting," Natasha said. She was standing back now, while Barton knocked another arrow and looked at her. "You went straight for Afzal."

"There's no easy way to say this," Wade said. "He smudged my Puma."

"Who hired you?" Natasha asked. "Who don't you want us to know about?"

"We've all got creepy exes here," Wade said.

"JARVIS, deactivate the cameras," she said. "SHIELD override code: 43621."

"I guess that means shit gets real," Wade said. He tugged at the cuffs on his wrists, rolling them up like sleeves, and howled.

"Natasha, I might enjoy this one," Clint said.

She slipped thick bracelets onto both of her wrists, smiled at Wade, and said nothing.

* * *

Steve stood at a console, watching the video feed closely. Behind him, Thor hammered at a strip of Asgardian steel. Sparks flew with every strike, and Steve had realized after the first blow that Thor had no need to heat the metal before it yielded to his will.

Sif sat to the side as well, holding a conversation in low tones with seemingly no one. The communicator in her ear was concealed with a long sweep of black hair.

Every so often, she turned her gaze to Steve's form, and each time Thor smiled a bit to himself before swinging Mjolnir down.

He set the hammer aside and wiped a thin towel over his face and chest. He raised both brows and smiled at Steve's posture, chuckling to himself.

"I assure you, friend Steve, he will not harm your friend," Thor said.

"I just don't know if I trust your brother's version of 'not hurting,' Thor," Steve said. He sighed and leaned back, the image before him collapsed. Despite his reservations, he would take a chance on Thor's word.

He turned his back to the feeds and leaned against the table, resting himself against the edge. He braced his hands on either side and huffed out a quiet breath.

"It is hard to trust, after so much betrayal," said Sif. Thor wiped his hands on the towel, keeping his gaze down.

"He never betrayed  _me_ ," Steve said. Then, to Thor: "Forgiveness is something I understand. I'm impressed that you were able to do it, after everything."

"He is my brother," Thor said, and Steve sighed.

"I understand that, too," he said.

"I am listening, Jane," Sif said to the air. "JARVIS, she wishes to address all of us."

"Thor, how's it coming?" Jane's voice echoed through the room, and Thor brightened at the sound spilling around them.

"Well, Jane," he said. "Your instructions were very specific."

"She knows who she is dealing with," Sif said with a playful grin. "I might have mentioned your work on a certain wooden mural for your mother."

"Mother said it was beautiful." Thor looked smug.

"And that is why she is a mother," Sif said, and both Asgardians laughed.

"Let it be known that my skills for deception were won honestly," Loki said from the door. Thor nodded in agreement while Sif fought an immediate scowl.

"It's true," he said, "Loki learned his tricks from Mother. Would that I had appreciated the source."

"I am sure a few Jötuns would have been grateful." Loki ran his eyes over the slowly-forming frame of Jane's machine. "What manner of mess have you made of it?"

"Has he made a mess?" Loki looked up at the sound of Jane's voice, and grinned wide.

"Oh,  _yes_ , dear Jane," he said. "Thor, surely that piece shouldn't be quite so bent?"

"It is not meant to be a weapon, Thor," Sif said.

"I thought he was making modern art," said Steve, less confident in the lie but smiling nonetheless.

"Traitors," Thor cried. "You swore oaths to speak highly of me!"

"I am certain I swore no such oath," Loki said.

"I might have, but there is no proof," Sif said.

"I don't lie," Steve said, and of the three of them he was the one Jane laughed at.

"I'm impressed, Steve," she said. "You've spent way too much time around Tony. JARVIS, let me take a look at the wreckage."

While Jane and Thor puttered over the constructed portions of the frame, Steve looked at Loki.

"Wasn't Tony asking for you?"

"He was," Loki said. "Might I have a word, Captain?"

Steve pushed off from the desk; a slight shake of his head told Sif to stay put, and he stepped outside of the room with Loki. The trickster appeared hesitant until the others were out of sight and hearing, and even then he fidgeted with the fingers clasped behind his back.

"Tell me of your life, before," Loki said, and Steve clenched his jaw at the abruptness of the question. Still, Steve could not be anyone other than himself, and so he responded with candid honesty.

"I wasn't much to look at," he said. "Scrawny, not soldier material. But I kept applying for the U.S. army, and a doctor saw potential."

"You were used as the means to someone else's end?" Loki asked.

"You could say that. I'd have said I was helping to defend my country. It's all in how you say it." Steve shrugged, and glossed over the finer details of the experiment. He hadn't forgotten who he was speaking with. "The trial run was the  _only_  run. I wasn't put in the front lines at first, though. The propaganda of the American super soldier was more powerful."

He could still remember every word of his war bonds speech.

"A prop," Loki murmured, and Steve nodded.

"It got tiresome, so I...defected on a mission. I had joined to serve, not to wear a stupid costume."

Neither of them mentioned that at this very moment he was wearing the decorated body armor, though Loki did glance down once.

"I performed well, so they let me have command of a squad." He paused, trying to think of which parts of this story Loki might want, or need, to hear. "We won the war, but I wasn't there to see it."

"You woke up a lifetime later," Loki said. It was someone else's words, and Steve nodded in agreement.

"Not  _everyone_  I'd known was dead, but most of my friends...and the entire world has changed so much. I still feel overwhelmed sometimes."

"What would you call the worst part, of having the world as you knew it torn away from you?" Loki was invested in this question and its answer. Steve considered his reply, and answered carefully.

"The woman I loved married and had a family," he said slowly. "I felt cheated, but I didn't resent her."

"But that was not the worst part," Loki said, and Steve sighed.

"The worst part was right after I woke up," he admitted, "when I realized the lie. They tried to pretend as though it was still the forties. I could never fully trust SHIELD after that."

Loki said nothing, and for that Steve was grateful. The air around them was saturated with emotions. Steve briefly wondered if Loki might disappear into the ether for a while, rather than confront his emotional state.

"Were you put up to this?" Steve asked, by way of distraction. Loki shot him a relieved look before replying.

"It was encouraged," Loki hedged. "I have found this most enlightening, Captain."

"What did you learn?"

"That the foundations we build for ourselves are fickle," Loki said, "and easily brought to ruin." He paused in his steps, and Steve stopped next to him. Loki stared down the hallway, then turned and extended a hand slowly. Steve, after a moment of thought, accepted the hand for a firm clasp.

"I understand that I acted outside of your authority, Captain," Loki said. "Without your approval. It will not happen again."

"How can I trust you?" Steve asked, because he was honest before he was cautious.

"Amma Lynn was very disappointed by my actions," Loki said. Steve drew Loki closer with his hand, and clapped him on the back with the other.

"My girl shot at me when I pissed her off," Steve said with a grin. "Call yourself lucky."

Loki thought of protesting, and found himself warming to the tease instead. "I am not certain of my luck, but I am certain of her ire."

"That's how they get you," Steve said. "Behind every good man is an annoyed woman."

"I fear I will cause her more annoyances than the average man," Loki said, "although I suppose she could simply succumb, and spare herself the trouble."

"You brought her back last time," Steve said.

"I hate to lose an argument," Loki said, and Steve laughed.


	28. Tomorrow

A day passed with much to show for their efforts, as Thor focused all of his energies and passion into constructing Jane's machine and the resident scientists worked on the entire purpose for the machine to exist. Tony spent most of his time building the mechanism which would trigger once Loki's magic funneled through, which required hours of debate and discussion with the trickster himself, who was wary of revealing the intricacies of just how his magic worked.

Tony threw up his hands at one point and declared the entire mission aborted, at which point Bruce took over by literally grabbing a chunk of Loki's coat sleeve and dragging the trickster to his station across the way. Tony left while Bruce prodded more gently at the trickster, sussing out what was needed without direct questions which left Loki uncertain of their intentions.

With efficiencies in place and Bruce leading the charge into Loki's psyche, they had developed the framework of a process which incorporated Jane's theories, Loki's magic, Bruce's physics knowledge and Tony's engineering into one large conglomeration of ideas which simply should not function together. Thor smelted the more radical functions directly into the metal in a technique which Tony affectionately dubbed "effing bullshit" before storming from the room in a huff of engineering defeat, and Bruce peppered the thunderer with questions until even Loki grew exhausted on his behalf.

Not that the trickster made any move to relieve Thor of the burden. He simply left the room to let Thor handle the intrusions on his own.

He stepped into the kitchenette area, where the Avengers often took up casual residence with each other in between attempting to solve the issue facing them. Barton and Sif were in the room now, engaged in a healthy game of Viking Chess. Barton was outlining the varied strategies he would use to win this particular round, while Sif pondered over the board and ultimately made a single move which made every one of Barton's stated intentions moot.

The archer scoffed and moved another piece, grinning at Sif's immediate ire when she realized she'd been manipulated. Loki poured himself a small glass of amber liquid which Tony referred to as "personal therapy" and raised both eyebrows when Barton turned to face him.

"What, not gonna offer us a drink?" the archer asked, deadpan save for the amused crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"Surely you both know better than to accept a serving from one such as me," Loki said while pouring a second glass. Sif  _did_  know better, but Barton seemed pleased to take the glass from Loki's hand.

"Thanks," he said, and sipped at the liquid. Loki could hardly call this drink stronger than the light ales offered to Asgardian children, but he enjoyed the spirit of a shared glass.

He did not waste time offering a drink to Sif.

"Is the work complete?" she asked, and Loki considered the liquid in his glass before responding.

"Nearly," he said. "We are closer than expected in such a short amount of time; if Stark and Banner solve this final piece, we might try our plan tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Sif said wistfully, and Loki realized she was homesick.

"You do not have to stay," he said, and she rounded on him with narrowed eyes.

"I will not leave my friends," she said. Loki did not pursue the statement, unwilling to break the uneasy truce between them over a petty squabble. Sif had a long memory, and Loki preferred to keep her perception and wisdom at arm's length.

"I miss Asgard," Barton said, "especially the weather. Always pleasant, just like California."

"We do have harsh winters at times," Sif said. "They are rare, spaced centuries apart."

"It's to do with the satellites around the realm," Loki said. "Their alignment directly impacts Asgard's climate."

"Have you lived through it?" Clint asked. Sif and Loki both nodded, and Sif added, "I enjoyed the snow fights."

"I did not enjoy the cold," Loki said.

"It's your birthright," Sif said, somewhat testily.

"And I was abandoned in it," Loki said. "I have no great affection for the elements."

"You didn't like any part of it?" Sif asked.

"The hot beverages were pleasant," Loki admitted. Clint nodded.

"Hot chocolate," he said. "Anyone can get behind that."

Footsteps drew Sif and Clint's attention to the side; Loki looked out the window instead, both appreciating the view and observing the reflection there.

"Natasha, hot chocolate," Clint said.

"It's great," Natasha said. She took the glass in Clint's hand and sipped, nodding in approval at the sharp sting of alcohol. "Not bad. Are we making some?"

"I don't know if Tony has any."

"Pepper stays here, too," Natasha said. "I guarantee they have some."

Her eyes fell on the glass in Loki's hand, and both eyebrows shot up in immediate surprise. Loki tensed, waiting for a scathing or awkward comment, and found himself confused when none came. Natasha simply sipped at the drink she'd stolen once more, then set the glass back into Clint's hand.

"Steve is out in the city," she said. "He wanted to see what's being done with the infected."

"Cheerful," Clint said.

"I imagine that as we speak, he is explaining the inhumanity of a necessary precaution to some hapless peon," Loki said. Sif barked out a short-lived laugh and shook her head.

"It is likely true," she said. "Perhaps I should have gone with him."

"There's no standing between Steve and a moral crusade," Clint said.

"Except perhaps rescuing puppies," Natasha said.

"Helping old ladies cross the street," Clint said.

"Pressing his suit," Sif said, "though I cannot fault him for that. Our instructors were very strict about upkeep as well."

"It is why she spends a full hour each day polishing the brass links in her armor," Loki said. The silence which followed reminded him of his place; he had spoken as Sif's friend, someone who knew more intimate details of her personal goings-on and could comment on them easily, even poke fun at her expense. He closed his eyes and sipped at the drink, considering the implications of turning heel and removing himself from the room.

"That is true," Sif said slowly, and he opened his eyes to look at her as she spoke. "I felt strongly that my armor should shine the brightest, to outshine my peers in every way."

The conversation continued without Loki, who stood mute at Sif's calm acceptance. That she would allow a tease was no strange feat in the company of Thor and the Warriors Three, but the same words from Loki's mouth more often led to dire threats and resentment.

Loki knew that to speak now would draw unwanted attention to her clumsy attempt at reconciliation. He sipped his drink and looked to the window again while the assassins traded verbal barbs. Natasha made a single move for Sif over Clint's adamant protests, and Sif won the game shortly after.

* * *

At the urging of only himself, Loki told Lynn of what had occurred later and his thoughts on Sif's earnest gesture. Lynn was sitting cross-legged at a small table, taping printed images into her notebook and organizing both notes and thoughts. She smiled without comment for so long that Loki became agitated, convinced that she was laughing at him.

"You think I am hoping for something that is not there," Loki said angrily. "I am not some abandoned dog seeking out any kind hand I can find."

"Half the battle is knowing when to shut up," Lynn said mildly, and Loki looked away. She had not even bothered to look at him while she spoke. "You did the best thing by not drawing attention to it."

"It could be a trick," Loki said.

"It could," Lynn said. "Is Sif like that?"

"Rarely," Loki said. "And only with friends."

Lynn sighed and rubbed the back of one hand against her eyes, clearing away what could be illness or exhaustion. Her eyes were bloodshot and she had several cups, plastic bottles and mugs on the table, a testament to her increased liquid intake as she attempted to soothe a painful throat.

Loki added another bottle to the pile and removed one of the empty ones.

"This is familiar," he said, and Lynn huffed out a laugh.

"At least I'm not blind this time," she said. Loki reached one hand toward her face and she batted him away.

"No thanks," she said, "I'll hold off until the cataracts come."

"Cataracts?" Loki settled another item at her elbow, and this time she scowled at the small, covered bowl.

"Tony or Clint?" she asked.

"Natasha," he said. "I dared not refuse."

Lynn popped the top open and sniffed at the thin chicken broth. "Cataracts are like a cloudy film that builds up in eyes. It happens over time to some of us, when we get older."

"I'm glad to hear you planning ahead for your incapacitating mortal diseases," Loki said. He forced himself to smile when she looked at him, and she laughed.

"Yeah, well. Some of us don't live forever." She held the bowl of broth in both hands and blew gently across the top. He watched the ripples across the surface, and realized that even when she was not blowing, the liquid trembled.

"Your hands are shaking," he said. She set the bowl down and nodded.

"It's getting harder to hold things," she said.

"May I see you?"

She glanced at JARVIS' camera. "JARVIS, recording off."

The light flickered off, and she sighed and leaned back in the chair. Loki touched her shoulder and drained away the seiðr. Physical contact wasn't required to complete this particular trick, but he had never mentioned that and she had yet to ask.

The glamor seeped away slowly, allowing her skin to shrivel and become more sallow. The circles under her eyes broadened, deepened and darkened; the red surrounding her pupils expanded further, revealing blood vessel bursts and a somewhat glazed vision. The clothes sagged down in areas which previously appeared to hold firm, and despite the relative warmth of the room, she shivered uncontrollably.

She looked hollow, and very ill.

"Your friends should know," he said, and she shook her head.

"It wouldn't change anything, just make them feel awful." She rubbed her upper arms, and he took the blanket from the back of her chair and draped it over her shoulders. "It's bad, isn't it?"

"You are lovely as ever," Amma Lynn."

"Liar," she said.

"They do call me the Liesmith," he said. When she laughed this time, there was more garbled haze in the sound, and she lapsed into a series of wet coughs. He knelt next to her and she shook her head.

"We talked about this," she said quietly. "Stop it."

"Tomorrow, Amma Lynn," he said, ignoring her request. "We will activate it tomorrow, and heal you."

She smiled thinly, and he narrowed his eyes.

"You are keeping something from me," he said. He pressed his palms to her knees when she said nothing, and tightened his fingers. "Tell me."

"I think the plan will work," she said.

"And that you will live," he said. She breathed deeply and they both winced at the rattle of her lungs.

"And that you will live," he repeated, this time at higher volume.

"I might," Lynn said. "There's a lot of damage, Loki. When it's gone, I don't know -"

"I will not allow you to die," he said. "I refused once already. Surely you trust in that?"

"We both know that was a fluke," she said. "Don't make this harder for me."

He leaned back on his heels. "Aren't you even a little afraid of death?"

"I'm apparently friends with death," she said, and smiled at him. Loki twisted a bit at the positive association with his birthright, and she touched the back of one hand to keep him still.

"How bad can it be?" she asked, and Loki looked away.

* * *

"I love ya tomorrow," Tony said, and Bruce sighed. "Think it'll work?"

"If it does, I'll drink whatever you buy me," Bruce said.

"That's the spirit," Tony said, and clapped the smaller man on the back. "Cut loose, live a little."

"If it works, that's one less problem for us to deal with," Steve said from the side. He stood with arms crossed, surveying the machine while Thor made final adjustments to Jane's specifications.

"If it works, think about the implications," Bruce said. "What if we could get him to figure out other diseases? This could save a lot of lives."

"Makes up for the ones he took," Tony said. "I'm all for it."

"You want incentives for your space program," Bruce said.

"Overpopulation is a great motivator," Tony said with a grin.

"How will we know it worked?" Steve asked. "We just go out to the quarantine zones, watch to see what happens?"

"We'll test Lynn," Bruce said. "I can determine if it's gone. It won't make her less sick immediately -"

"Why not?" Tony said with a scowl. "Ridley'll be gone, won't it?"

"But not the damage," Bruce said. "Most of the damage caused by this illness is our immune system going into overdrive -"

"So have IV bags ready, got it," Tony said, raising a hand to halt further information.

"Why tomorrow?" Steve asked. "If it's ready tonight, why not tonight?"

"Because Loki…" Tony stopped, blinked, and scowled. "Son of a bitch. JARVIS, where's Morto at? Get his ass over here."

"He is in Miss Creed's quarters," JARVIS said. "She requested that video feed be disabled."

Bruce made a strangled face, and Thor glanced upward at the voice with raised eyebrows. Tony narrowed his eyes and tossed his wrench onto the workbench. Only Steve seemed unaffected by the announcement.

"Son of a  _bitch_ ," Tony said, "I'll wring his neck!"

"Maybe they want privacy," Bruce stuttered, and earned a scathing glare for the effort.

"That's  _not helping_ ," Tony said.

"I'll go check on them; you stay here," Steve said.

"Is Lynn Creed not an adult by Midgard's standards?" Thor asked, sounding confused.

"Don't start with me, Asgard," Tony said. "Your brother's already on my shit list."

* * *

_This is super boring_.

"It is, it so is. Couldn't they give me cards or something? I always win at Solitaire."

_You can't play cards right now._

"What, this?" He tugged at his shackled wrists. "Just a little setback. Minor. Tiny, even."

_That's what she said._

Wade scowled.

"And let's talk about appropriateness in the workplace for a second," he said. "Did you  _see_  her ass in that outfit? This BDSM schtick, I can get behind it."

_I see what you did there._

"My jokes are hilarious."

_They make all the teen boys squeal._

"I appeal to a mature audience." Wade twisted his wrist sideways, dislocated his thumb, and slid his hand free. "It's why the movie keeps getting stalled."

_That and no one wants to pay money for an actor they can never see._

"It'd be classic art," Wade said as he pulled his second hand free, then started on the wrist cuffs. "What is that weird noise? It's awful."

_It's an alarm. The room is being monitored, as most rooms are._

"Kinky," he said. "Should I be worried?"

_I think this is a good time to get out._

"But my redemption angle." He sighed.

_You don't care about that._

"My swords," he corrected. "You know I love those fucking things."

_Staying is a terrible idea. Like, a really awful, terrible idea._

"My favorite kind," he said. "Let's get dangerous."


	29. Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that the US Ebola epidemic of three people has been experienced in all its glory, I feel validated in my analysis of how the world would respond to this.

An unverified article was published claiming that cold weather stemmed the virus' progression. Northern countries saw an influx of immigrants and tourism against their governments' wishes, and within less than a week the first case was spotted in the northernmost country on Earth.

Moscow was shut down. The death toll in Sub-Saharan Africa had reached the thousands, and the politicians in Washington, D.C. called for a total shut down of American borders against the wishes of the World Health Organization. Only a few island nations had resisted the spread of the disease, and their local economies boomed as all trade was shut down in light of worldwide events.

When the thousandth American died, the President called for emergency nationwide quarantine, and the country effectively shut down.

* * *

 

"And where the hell have you been?" Wade adjusted his balance on the vent system. "You can't keep people waiting like this. Rude."

_People get busy._

"The hell do you have to do?"

 _Busy work_.

"Sure, yeah, whatever. Need me to summarize?"

_You should have faith in the audience._

"Audience testing has ruined too many movies for that."

_What they did to 'I Am Legend' is sacrilege._

"Will Smith is still my man, though."

He uncurled his legs and dropped down into the center of the hallway. He looked for the closest red light of a camera, winked and tipped fingers off of his forehead in greeting.

_Is this even near where your swords are?_

"Fuck if I know." The door at the end of the hallway opened, because  _of course_  it did.

_This was a terrible, awful idea._

"We're all friends here, right?" he said as Natasha stepped into the corridor.

"I don't think so," she said. Clint entered behind her, his face already a mask of grim-dark emotions.

"Oh noooo," Wade said, "it's Mr. and Mrs. Smith."

_The arrows still hurt, you know._

"No one knows better than me," Wade said. "Mercy! I'm unarmed!" He raised both hands in surrender.

"Having no weapons isn't the same as unarmed," Natasha said.

_She has a point._

"I don't like it when people know my tricks," he mourned.

"You really should talk less," Clint said.

_Beg._

"Look, can we not fight?" He pitched his voice a bit, wobbled his bottom lip. "Look at me, I'm pitiful -"

_Not helping._

" - and uh, we should be friends?"

_Nice save._

"What do you have to offer?" Natasha asked.

_Don't say a charming personality._

"A charming personality," he said out of spite, "and also kung-fu."

He hadn't expected it to work. What he expected was an arrow through his eye. But the assassins looked at each other, one with more blatant disapproval than the other, and Barton muttered, "Captain's orders."

Natasha looked at Wade and pointed a thumb over her shoulder.

"The Captain wants to speak with you," she said. "If you're good, we'll even give you some food."

"Do I want to speak with the Captain?" he asked.

_This gets you closer to swords._

"Buddy, pal, hey friend! Yes, let's speak to the dear ol' Captain. I won't stand on a desk for him, though. That's not where this is going is it?"

_Wrong movie._

" _Great_  movie," he said. "Rest in peace."

"Let's go," Barton said. "Kitchen, food."

"Tell me you have tacos," Wade said.

* * *

Steve stepped into Lynn's quarters after a single warning knock, relatively sure he wasn't about to walk in on anything he didn't want to see. He trusted Loki to know Lynn's limits, and considering her weakened state, anything more than a hug would probably kill her.

What he wasn't expecting was the revelation of the state of her progression, and he froze in the doorway when she turned a gaunt, stricken face to his. Loki stood from his place on the floor and moved in front of her to shield her from Steve's view, but the damage was done.

Steve felt righteous anger swelling in his chest, and he pointed at Loki and let it loose.

"You've been  _hiding_  her?"

Loki narrowed his eyes; Steve advanced on him, ignoring the other temper in the room, too concentrated on his own ire.

"I have hidden nothing," Loki said. He stepped aside to let Steve see Lynn, and there she was again - not healthy, no, but better, not a skeleton.

Steve looked between the two of them, from Loki's indignant stare to Lynn avoiding his eyes, and sighed.

"It was your idea," he said to Lynn. "You what, didn't want us to worry?"

"Amma Lynn is capable of making her own decisions," Loki said.

"Let me see," Steve said, and Loki looked down at Lynn, who shrugged a little.

"Steve, it's not helping anything," she said.

"I won't ask again," Steve said. There were times when his stern, fatherly approach assisted in his goals. This was one of those times. In response to his staunch yet caring tone, Lynn nodded at Loki, who sighed and waved a hand through the air. The illusion collapsed as Lynn's eyes widened.

"You didn't have to touch me?" she asked, and Loki took his turn to shrug.

"Lynn…" Steve dragged a second chair closer and sat in front of her. From the bloodshot eyes to the weight loss, she looked like...like…

He pushed the negative associations away, reminding himself that she was not in any sort of prison camp, and took her hands.

"Tonight," he said with authority. He looked up at Loki, who blinked at him. "Everything is ready, isn't it? Tonight, Loki. This thing needs to go."

"Very well," said Loki.

"I'm taking you to Bruce," Steve said to Lynn. "He'll be with you to monitor your vitals."

Lynn made a face. "Is he going to give me an IV?"

"Probably," Steve said. "It looks like you should've had one all this time. Why…" He pursed his lips, took a death breath, and visibly washed himself of the topic. "Let's go."

He stood, holding her hands to help her take to her feet as well. She managed, concentrating hard, but froze once she was standing. Steve hesitated; Loki did not.

"Amma Lynn," he said gently, "will one of us need to carry you?"

"Don't drop me," she said. "I don't think I could survive that."

"I will be careful," the trickster said, and swept her into his arms with delicate care.

Steve couldn't decide if this was good or bad progress, and hoped that they wouldn't need to find out.

* * *

"She's secure, Caliban," Tony said when Loki entered. "Bruce'll keep'er safe. Let's get to work."

"Banner seems concerned about the after-effects," Loki said. "Amma Lynn made a similar concern known." He paused, considering how to voice his next thoughts, and finally just spat out, "Should I be worried?"

"Probably," Tony said. Behind him, Thor twisted a piece of metal and hammered it into place in the finishing touches of the machine. "When women say 'nothing's wrong' it's never a good sign."

"How long should this take?" Steve stood to the side with his arms crossed. The machine was built around a chair, smack in the center, with restraints. Steve felt an odd sense of familiarity with the whole thing.

"Does it matter?" Tony typed in a code on the keypad. "He can survive it."

"Did we  _have_  to design it to work this way?" Steve asked.

"Probably not," Tony said with a wicked smile. A moment later, Clint and Natasha stepped into the room with Wade, who was singing in a terrible falsetto about  _shit getting real_.

"Hey there Billy," Tony said. "Get in the chair."

"It's a pretty weird looking chair," Wade said. He looked over the entire machine; all around them, the sounds of engines powering up whirred into increasing volume, and the build-up of electricity crackled and split the air.

"Welcome to your redemption," Tony said. "Get in."

"Only if you want to," Steve added, and Tony rolled his eyes.

"Do I get to find out  _why_  I get in the chair?" Wade asked. "Last time this setup didn't work out so well for me."

"If I told you it'd save the world, would you care?" Tony asked.

"I guess that's cool," Wade said. He sounded uncertain.

"I have lots of money and will give you some," Tony said.

"So many chimichangas," Wade said. He stepped into the center of the machine and sat in the chair, raising a fist.

"For the world! And chimichangas. Mostly that second thing. Hey, why are there needles?" Loki was strapping him in place, and the whole thing was terribly, horribly familiar. "Hey, wait - I think I changed my mind, guys -"

"Think of the money," Tony said.

Loki pressed a finger to the center of Wade's forehead.

"Sleep," he said, and the man fell still.

"We'll talk about roofies and why we don't use them later," Tony said. "Step out, let's get this party started."

"I thought you were going to explain everything before putting him in there," Steve said. Tony had to admit he might've been concerned, except that Steve didn't move to stop their progress. The good Captain understood what was at stake.

"Do you honestly think he'd care?" Tony asked, and tapped in an activation sequence. Moving parts whirred into life, spinning and closing tight around the figure within.

"Ready to stick a fork into a socket?" Tony said to Loki.

"Take care, brother," Thor called over the machine's chaos. Loki closed his eyes and felt for the tether around Lynn's ankle, using this as his anchor to hold him steady. He felt the sickness inside of her and wrapped his seiðr around it, giving himself the scent for a worldwide hunt.

"For Amma Lynn," the trickster murmured, for his own ears alone, and pressed his hand against the machine to funnel his seiðr through. The room exploded into green, spinning energies, and of a sudden Loki felt awareness of Lynn along with thousands of others afflicted with the terrible virus.

He had determined long ago to send the terrible thing back where it belonged, and ripped a hole into Yggdrasil's child, forcing a pathway open where previously none existed. A hole opened above them, leading to a dark nothing, and roaring filled their ears.

"What the  _hell -_ " Tony's voice echoed from far away. Loki heard Thor and the good Captain crying out in surprise and fear. Something had gone wrong. Something had gone wrong -

A great hand reached through the punctured barrier and took hold of Loki's vestments, jolting him forward into the tear. He clung to the thick wrist and tore at the golden armor, clinging to the anchor left behind, pulling until he felt something give and the darkness swallowed him whole. The tear sealed; lights flashed and popped, and the assorted Avengers looked up from their relative positions of being thrown to the ground by the sudden, vicious surge of dark energy.

"I think we have a problem," Tony said between racking coughs. Electric sputters and hisses echoed around the room. They all looked into the center, where Loki and the machine had stood not thirty seconds ago.

The machine, and Loki, were gone.

* * *

Bruce held Lynn's hand when the lights began to flicker and pop.

"Soon," he said with a kind smile, and Lynn sighed and picked at the tape around her IV needle. She thought of Kyle Brogan, age four, and shuddered.

"If I die, I don't want an autopsy," she said. "Is that selfish?"

"Well, we wouldn't need to confirm cause of death," Bruce said. Lynn smiled at his gallows humor and felt relieved that he was the one here. Steve would've been appalled; Tony and Loki wouldn't have heard of the topic at all. Bruce was too much of a realist, and it was in quiet moments like this where his attitude came out full-swing and revealed the pessimist within.

The lights dimmed; the air thickened. Loki's magic was amplified, and it made her skin itch around her ankle.

The itch turned into a burn; Lynn let out a strangled shriek and grasped her ankle, gasping at the pain.

"Lynn, what's wrong?" Bruce asked. He grabbed her upper arms. "Lynn, speak to me!"

"What is he  _doing -_ "

Her body jolted forward, tugged by her ankle from the bed onto the floor and straight across the room. She screamed and covered her head to shield from the approaching wall; her screams died out instantly as she vanished.

"Lynn? Lynn!" Bruce checked the wall for any irregularities, then tore from the room en route to the assembled machine.

"Guys," he cried as he burst into the room, "Lynn is -"

He stopped when he saw the scene, blinking furiously as though each blink might bring the machine back into focus.

"Lynn is what, Bruce?" Tony limped closer and took his shoulder, shaking him slightly. "Lynn is  _what?_ "

"She's gone," he said slowly, still taking in the scene.

"We forgot someone on our list," Barton said in between coughs. He looked at Steve. Behind him, Natasha's mouth set into a determined line and her nostrils flared.

"Thanos has them," Thor said, and there was nothing else to say.


	30. Further

Loki was pulled through and released in another moment, where he fell onto his side and rolled, warrior’s instincts contorting his arms and displacing the force of impact.  He struck the side of a pedestal and stopped, his back to the enemy.  The floor was coated in a thick layer of viscous purple sludge which now coated his garb, and Loki gagged at the intensity of the stench rising from the floor.  

“You have succeeded, little godking,” Thanos said behind him.  “Depriving my love of new tribute from the realm of men.”

“I meant no offense,” Loki said through his teeth.  He struggled not to gag as he stood and shook his hands, attempting to slough off the mess from his arms.  The sludge was sticky and heated.  

“Of course not,” Thanos said.  A hand pressed into Loki’s shoulder, stilling his riled movements.  Loki could feel mental tendrils burrowing into his mind, slicing circuits across his awareness that he fought to repair with the same speed as they were created.  He let off that endeavor for a more fruitful path.  His hands flashed bright with power, and the tendrils washed away like silt in the wind.  

Thanos made no reaction save for a quiet sigh of air.  

“I wondered who it was that dared to oppose my lady,” the Titan said.  “To think that her own heir has denied her of the opportunity to claim so many.  I should be disappointed.”

“Ever a being of few words,” Loki said.  His mind was racing outside of his control, and he breathed deeply, curling his fingers into mess coating his palms.  He turned a moment later, flinching at the bright sunlight spilling from the center of the dias.  Thanos looked neither pleased nor cruel.  

“Must we stay here?” Loki asked.  “This filth -”

“I have missed you, little godking.”

“You hardly sought me out,” Loki said.  “I felt abandoned, as surely as your own force when they were turned loose against my command.”

“There is no trouble between us,” Thanos said.  “I asked a single task of you; I cannot say now that you failed only because you did not have time to betray me.”

Loki’s eyes could find no purpose; he flickered his gaze from one side of the room to the other, seeking out a small mortal form even as he ran his hands across his garments, shaking loose the muck.  He gave himself a shake; another bright flash, and the gunk covering him was gone.  He breathed deeply and regretted the action a moment later, as the room was still full of…

“What is this mess?” Loki asked.  Thanos ignored his irritation and stroked his fingers through the miniature sun in the center of the room.  

“I run short of allies,” the Titan said as lines of scorching gas curdled in his fingers.  “They have all betrayed me without thought to the consequences - save one.  I cannot call myself impressed, though there is the matter of two unwieldy daughters who have defied me.”

“The role of women is to cause men grief,” Loki said, and Thanos laughed through narrowed eyes.  

“A tribulation you know well, I think.  Cease your search, Laufeyson.  There are no others here.”

Loki straightened and spread his hands, where a blade shimmered into the light.  

“Come at me, if you wish,” Loki ground out.  He had lost patience with this creature eons ago.  

“You have learned new tricks,” the Titan said, ignoring the blade.  “How clever of you.”

“I stand on equal footing with you,” Loki said.  He wanted to stop; he did not want to react so purely on instinct.  Fear lapped at the crinkles of his armor, and he could not banish the thought that Lynn Creed might already be dead.  

Thanos knelt in the purple muck and drew up a handful, which squelched in protest as he offered the dripping mass to the trickster.  

“This is what accompanied you into my realm, when I pulled you through,” the Titan said.  “My lady’s own minion, content to do the work she assigned it.  Why do you betray her trust, heir of Death?”

“I served her well when it was time,” Loki said.  “Death holds no further sway over my fate.”

“Truth comes so easily to you now.”  Thanos stood and crushed the muck in his hand.  Rivulets of wet stink flowed out from his balled fist to drip to the covered floor.  

“Why would Loki Laufeyson bother himself with the fate of mortals?” the Titan asked.  “What purpose could their existence serve, when you are not their conqueror?”

“Waste not,” Loki said.  The tendrils were back, this time fortified with Thanos’ immortal reserves.  The trickster clenched his fists, the hilt of his sword creaking under the pressure of his rage.  That Thanos would kill him was a certainty - unless -

“Of course,” Thanos said in response to the fluttering thoughts battering against him.  “You are as ever useful now as you were then - more so, I should think, with the Tesseract to feed your will.”

“It is not my will -”

“Truth cannot be bought,” Thanos said, “and your loyalty is as slippery as an eel.”

“What is it you want, Thanos?”  Loki raised the blade.  He felt nearly drunk with fear, and couldn’t remember a time when he felt half so reckless as now.  “A battle?  You can feel its power, can you not?”  

“I know the feel of each Infinity Stone,” the Titan said.  “You are not a child mage any longer.”

“Come at me, and see how far I’ve come,” Loki snarled.  

“Be still, boy,” Thanos said, and Loki narrowed his eyes.  “I have said there is no trouble, yet you persist.  Your powers have outgrown you.”

Loki breathed through his mouth and stepped back, once.  The Titan regarded him with barely a shade of interest, and Loki took another step away.  

“Your mortals are not here,” Thanos said, and Loki paused.  

“It fascinates me, though, your cooperation with them.”  Thanos stepped toward Midgard’s pedestal, unbroken, and watched the cloudy green and blue planet spin delicately upon its axis.  “What sway do they hold over you?  Did they not conquer you?”

“Perhaps I have learned forgiveness,” Loki said.  He wanted to leave, and Thanos was delaying him.  

The Titan laughed and shook his head.  

“Perhaps less truth now,” he said.  “No, you’ve fooled them as you once fooled me.”

“I never fooled you,” Loki said.  He was becoming accustomed to the stink, and took this as a poor development.  

“But you did, boy,” Thanos said.  He was advancing again, and Loki kept pace, circling to the side.  “You claimed you could not travel without an anchor.”  

Loki said nothing.  

“It is of no matter now,” Thanos said.  “Our quarrel is of the past.  I will not hurt my lady’s heir.”

Loki wondered how far he could stretch that pledge.  He raised his chin and tried not to think of the muck covering his boots.  

“If we’ve no business to tend to, I will take my leave,” he said.  He waited a moment to see the Titan’s reaction; Thanos said nothing, and Loki moved for the door.  He lowered his blade as he passed the Titan by, and stopped when a thick, gold-encrusted hand gripped his elbow.  

“You are not leaving the way you came,” Thanos said.  

“I do not know what you mean,” Loki ground out.  His mind was full of Lynn Creed’s dead stare.  

“You do,” Thanos said.  He was smiling; the crags of his face stretched wider, as though tectonics applied.  Loki wondered if mountains occasionally formed on the Titan’s chin.  

Loki felt the pull within him a moment too late.  He yelled and slammed down the full weight of his inner defenses, driving his seiðr forth as a knife aimed for the invasive tendrils of Thanos’ will.  

The Titan draped his will throughout Loki’s brain, searing away the trickster’s connections to himself.  Loki collapsed to his knees and gripped either side of his head, fighting a lost battle.

He mustn’t lose.  He mustn’t lose, for - for -

“Ah,” Thanos murmured, and smiled a terrible, triumphant smile.  “You’ve brought her here.”

“Leave her -”

Thanos clenched his fist, and Loki felt pain in the center of his chest.  He choked and pressed his hands to the wound he could feel but not see.  

“Be still, boy,” the Titan said.  “I will not tell you again.”

He twisted his fist and Loki groaned in agony.  

“Do you think she feels this as well?” Thanos asked the trickster as he clutched at his chest.  “Do you think she might already be dead?  This planet is no place for a mortal to roam aimlessly.  Perhaps the Chitauri have found her.”

He crouched next to Loki, who could barely see through blurred eyes.  Each movement of the Titan’s fingers tore at the trickster’s heart, and he could only gasp in pain and try to endure.  

“I confess I have lied to you as well,” Thanos said.  “You failed me, boy, as others have - but it is you alone who remains for penance.”  The Titan stroked a hand across Loki’s arm; pain bloomed in his finger’s wake, and Loki jerked away from him.  

“I do not abide by sons,” Thanos said, “and I am in need of another daughter.”

“No,” Loki gasped.  “You will not -”

The Titan clawed his fingers and smiled as Loki jolted in a sudden spasm of pain.  

“I will find your mortal, little godking, and improve her,” Thanos said.  The madness crept through; his smile was a sneer.  “You will watch my daughter be born through distress and torment, and emerge a greater creature than when she began.”  

Thanos looked to Midgard, where green and purple lights shimmered across the colder skies.  

“I will call her Aurora,” he said, “after her own home.”  

Loki hoped, with all of his being, that Lynn Creed was already dead.

* * *

 

“Hey, babe.”  

A hand slapped Lynn’s cheek and jolted her head to the side.  She moaned and tilted her head the other way.  

“Babe, seriously, open your eyes,” the voice said.  “This is some Ridley Scott bullshit, and I do not want anything raping my face.”

Lynn opened her eyes.  She was propped against a rock outcropping, hands folded in her lap.  Wade offered a hand to help her up.

“I mean I’d survive it, sure, but the nightmares,” he said.  “How do you even go to therapy for that?  ‘Well doc, this thing burst outta my chest.  I mean I lived but seriously, it burst from my chest.  No doc, there’s no giant rabbit!”

Lynn took his hand and tried to stand as best she could.  Her head felt foggy and she blinked several times.  

“My references are not crossed,” Wade said to no one.  

“Where are we?” Lynn slurred.  Wade raised his brows at her.  

“I propped you up because I’m in my redemption arc,” Wade said.  “Don’t get emotional over it.”

“I didn’t…”  Lynn gripped his arm for balance as she swayed, and Wade held her shoulders.  

“Whoa, babe, try to walk a straight line first.  No sudden movements.”

She saw a bashed metal contraption further down the way.  The longer pieces were twisted and bent, gnarled fingers reaching into the sky.  

“Yeah I Hulked out of that,” Wade said proudly.  “Or it broke when it hit this mountain here.  I mean you know, either way I’m a sexy beast.”

“Loki,” Lynn said.

“Don’t bring him up,” Wade snapped.  “I was having a good time, just you and me and the endless eternity of night or whatever the hell this is.”

“Sorry,” she said, and closed her eyes.  When she opened them again she was looking up from the ground, and Wade was sitting cross-legged next to her, throwing a ball against the mountainside and catching it as it bounced back.   

“You fainted or something,” Wade said.  “Don’t die again.  I don’t think your boyfriend can bring you back twice.  It’d piss off my girl.”

“He’s not - your girl?” Lynn sat up, holding a hand to her forehead.  Wade threw the ball again, caught it, and threw it again.  

“Damn right he’s not,” he said.  “Not my type.  Now his brother -”

“Oh,” Lynn said.  She looked across the landscape she could make out and felt her heartbeat start to pick up.  

“Don’t freak out on me, babe.”  Wade offered the ball to her.  

“I know this place,” she said.  

“Yeah, you have that oh shit I hate this place look going.”  Wade stood and offered his hand again.  “Think you can manage this time?”

She pressed a hand to her chest and breathed deeply, once.  She coughed and shook her head.  

“Give me a minute, Wade,” she said quietly.  

“No one calls me by my name,” he sad with a heaving sigh.  

“‘Deadpool’ is a pretty weird name,” Lynn said.  

“I meant Captain Fantastic the Marvelous.  Way cooler name.”

“I am never calling you that,” she said as she took his hand and pulled herself to her feet.  

“I should drop you on your ass,” he said.  He pressed a hand to her back to steady her.  “Just right here, right on your ass.  Why are you bleeding?”

Lynn looked at her wrist.  A small line of blood dribbled across her palm.  

“The IV,” she muttered.  “Of course.”  She rubbed her wrist; the blood was already clotting, and she was left with a slight soreness and nothing more.  

“Where to babe?”  Wade raised a hand to his forehead and looked into the distance.  “This is your party.  I see lots of shit-all.”

“Up,” she said.  Her feet were burning with cold.  “Everything is up top.”

“Of course it is, because why wouldn’t it be?”  Wade bent to pick up several rocks, which he stored in the various pockets of his uniform.  Lynn watched for a few moments, then leaned down to pick up two of her own.  

“Copycat,” Wade said.  “I’ll sue you for royalties.”

“You won’t get much,” she said.  

“The fuck I won’t.  Tony fucking Stark is your sugar daddy.  That’s a guaranteed mil right there.”

“Tony doesn’t pay -”  Lynn covered her mouth and tried to stave off the rising coughing fit.  Her eyes were bloodshot.  

“Seriously babe, don’t die.”  Wade clapped her back once.  She stumbled forward a step.  “It’ll be really boring talking to my pet rocks.”

“I’ll do my best,” she wheezed.  “We need to find Loki.  He can take us home.”

“One asshole boyfriend, coming up,” Wade said.  Lynn decided to save her breath, rather than argue, and started looking for the upward trial on the mountain.  

 


	31. Barricade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: After having seen Guardians of the Galaxy, I feel vindicated in my belief that Thanos, for all his power, is kind've an idiot when it comes to things like plans and logic, and his grand-seeming designs (so far) always peter out into nothing at all. This influences how I write him.
> 
> Two chapters for the price of one this time - enjoy!

 

Lynn thought they'd managed a full mile before she had to stop and sit. Her lungs fluttered weakly and she covered her mouth with both hands, breathing in and out of the pressure created by her cupped hands. She closed her eyes and shook.

"This is taking forever," Wade said. "I'm bored. Dance for me."

Lynn shook her head without speaking.

"Just because it might actually kill you to make that much effort doesn't mean you shouldn't."

"Stop talking," she said. "They'll find us."

"They who?" Wade knocked on the rocks nearby. "You're saying something actually lives here?"

"The Chitauri," Lynn said. Wade looked down at her. "The New York aliens."

"I thought they all got blown up or whatever," Wade said.

"Only the ones that came for Earth," she said.

"But that's it, right?" Wade crossed his arms.

"No, there's another -"

"God, what is this, Ursula LeGuin? Everyone knows that it's one planet, one culture," Wade said.

Lynn remembered thousands of Chitauri corpses coated in ice, dotting the landscape as far as the eye could see. She said nothing.

"Alright fine," Wade said, "so there's something here other than us and your boyfriend and the Wachowskis."

"Stop talking -" Lynn began coughing and found she couldn't stop. Her throat rattled as she gasped for breath, and she pressed her hands against her chest in an effort to calm her lungs. Her vision blurred and she struggled to take in air; in another moment, she felt Wade lean against her side and pressure between her shoulder blades.

"Don't try and guilt me with this hospice shit," he said as he rubbed her back. "I'm morally bankrupt."

She wheezed and covered her mouth until her coughs died down to small, hitching pants. Around them, rocks began to crumble and click as beings moved over them. A Chitauri looked around an outcropping and turned its head, clicking to its fellows before stepping closer. It had no weapon though it was armored; the two more behind it held their strange weapons. Lynn stared at the first as she tried to even out her breathing. Wade turned and stood.

"Hey," he said, "it's about time! This is some shitty hospitality. Did you bring us gifts?"

"They can't understand you," Lynn said.

"¿Habla Español?" Wade asked. The closest Chitauri pointed to both of them and click-shrieked a clear command.

"I think he wants us to stay here," Lynn said.

"Fuck that," Wade said. "They only ever want that when something worse is coming."

For once, Lynn didn't argue. Wade picked through the pockets of his suit, holding rocks between his fingers.

"Yeah, ninja style," he said to no one, and flung his hand out. The released rocks flew into the faces of the Chitauri, followed by Wade himself as he threw himself into the newly-formed fray.

"Spoon!" he yelled, and snapped a Chitauri's neck. "Shitty aliens. They break as easy as people!"

More were coming, now that a full-on fight had broken out. Lynn knew she couldn't help and didn't want to become a target. She pushed herself back and looked to the side, searching for a suitable spot to hide until either the Chitauri gave up or Wade decided he'd had enough.

She didn't think either was likely.

"I don't care about plot advancement," Wade yelled over the Chitauri voices. Lynn picked among the rocks and froze. Thanos stood not ten feet away, watching her with what might be called a serene smile on another's face.

Lynn found that she was shaking, and couldn't stop.

"Welcome home," Thanos said. Lynn tilted her face down and away, breathing deeply.

"There is no need to hide your face," Thanos said as he approached. "Not from I, your father."

Lynn looked to the side, where more Chitauri poured around the corner of the path she and Wade had picked along the mountain. Wade was hooting - or yodeling - and wasn't paying attention at all. She looked back to Thanos and tried to force her feet into motion as the Titan approached. He towered above her; the top of her head did not meet his chin.

She pulled her eyes away from his face and clenched her fists.

"You should never hide in the shadows, daughter," he said. "You are better than that."

"Leave me alone." She thought she hadn't spoken, until she realized Thanos had stopped his advance. She glanced up at him; he peered down at her with narrowed, angry eyes.

"You will not speak to me in such a way," he said. "It is disrespectful."

"Where's Loki?" she asked, because she knew that her presence betrayed his.

"The bastard runt of Laufey is no concern of ours," Thanos said. His voice dripped with affectionate disdain, as though the question charmed him and the topic disgusted him. A Chitauri head, detached from its body, slammed the wall between them and Lynn skirted back with a yell, arms over her face. Wade called from the side -

"Catch, babe! -"

And the fight raged on while Thanos bent to pick up the severed head.

"You hold their kin inside of you," he said. "Even now, they burrow deeper. Are you tired, my child?"

Lynn felt as though she could lie down and sleep for a week. She shook her head. Thanos crushed the skull in his fist, the ooze dripping from his fingers. He was smiling at her, and reached to stroke a hand across her jaw. She jolted away to avoid his touch.

"Oh my dear, how I..." Thanos paused in speech and movement, his head tilting to the side as he observed her. She felt goose pimples race along her arms and neck and stepped back again.

"What memories you have," he said quietly.

Lynn turned and ran.

* * *

Loki was nothing if not resilient. Thanos could not delve into the tricker's mind; he could only surround it with his power, and contain his will. But he could neither suppress it nor force Loki's thoughts into the directions he chose.

Not any longer.

Loki wove, and pressed, and molded his will, deep within his mind where the dark tendrils of Thanos' power could not reach. Outwardly he sat prone, obedient as a domesticated mule. Inwardly, he reached out with his own tendrils, weaving them around Thanos'. Finding the pathways within himself that even the Titan would never discover.

Silent and still, he burrowed deep into his own heart until he found the thread of power which was not his own. He drifted closer to the path and followed it down, down, past the boundaries of the real and into the in-between, where the heart of Yggdrasil's child lay outside of Thanos' reach.

Outside of Thanos' reach, yes.

But not Loki's.

* * *

She could see this time, running across the Chitauri landscape. She could find her way, but she was barefoot and the ground was uneven and often jagged. She pushed past the hurt along the pads of her feet and continued forward, ever forward, away from the grinning mad thing behind her.

Five Chitauri burst from the side of the mountain, pouring from a cave she hadn't seen and falling all around her. Their weapons were out and pointed; their shrieks echoed against the mountain. She shielded her face from them and backed away, until the wall of the mountain cornered her.

Thanos walked at his leisure, and she coughed so hard that her throat rattled in protest. It had been a mistake to run, an instinctive response. She covered her mouth and pressed back against the rock wall; the coughing drove her down, down until she was on the ground, her legs curled up against her chest. Her vision swam as breath escaped her, and her own coughing prevented her from taking in more air.

A great hand, covered in gold and molten purple crags, descended upon her head. She could only see black.

"Be still, daughter," the Titan said.

She wanted to scream that she was not his daughter, that she would never be his daughter. She tried to curl away and the hand touching her fisted, gripping hair to hold her in place.

"You will know pain," he said, and she was stuck inside echoes of the past and present. "And you will be better for it."

She spit blood at his feet, and he laughed.

* * *

_Do you think you've forgotten something?_

"Memory like a steel trap," Wade said. He'd picked up two of the Chitauri blasters and was dual-wielding them as improvised swords, ignoring the primary function of the weapons in favor of bashing as many faces as possible.

_Think harder._

"I'm busy, can't you see that?"

_I don't have eyes._

"Don't need them to see, huh?" He slammed the two blasters together on either side of a Chitauri's head; the skull gave way and gore splattered in every direction. "They break so pretty."

_You're missing something._

"Ugh, just tell me. I hate riddles." He was starting to wonder just how many aliens lived on this rock.

_Small, dark, nice ass. You remember?_

"What, she feeling left out?" Another face, another splatter. They seemed to be coming in thicker waves. Apparently they had numbers.

"I mean I gave her head," Wade said, and giggled to himself.

_Heh. Head._

"Exactly," he said.

_She's gone._

"What?" Wade turned and a blaster shot caught him in the right shoulder. He grunted and rubbed at the healing wound, scanning the mountainside behind him. More Chitauri – expected. They'd probably come until they overwhelmed him. No Lynn – unexpected.

"Where the hell?" He snarled and punched the end of his own blaster through the chest plate of the closest Chitauri. "Can't take her anywhere. Where'd she go?"

_Maybe you should try to find her._

"Maybe I should've read the script," he said.

_That would've helped._

"How big is this rock, anyway?" He grabbed the arm of the closest Chitauri and shook it. The alien managed to look confused despite having few recognizable features, and Wade repeated himself.

"Hey, yeah  _you_ , I mean how many zip codes we talkin'?"

_He can't understand you._

" _Ugh_. Speak  _American_." He put the end of the blaster into the center of the Chitauri's chest and fired. The body fell, and ten more replaced it. Wade was getting bored.

"It's not that I don't like the exercise," he said. "It's just a little redundant."

_You should get captured._

"That is  _never_  a great idea."

_They might take you where she's at._

He raised his hands. "Should I care at all?"

 _Probably not_. He was forced to his knees. The shrieking around him made him laugh.

"You guys are the worst," he said, as they tried to kill him again. "No really. Maybe a little higher. Yeah – that spot itches."

They clicked and gestured. They pointed up the mountain. They tried to kill him again. He grumbled and rolled his eyes.

"Come  _on_ , get to it ya idiots. We ain't got all day here."

They forced him to his feet and started him marching, up into as likely a direction as any.

_Well done, I think._

"Now we're getting somewhere," he said.

* * *

The Titan brought Lynn in, struggling despite her mortal weaknesses, despite her illness and certainty of failure. Even with all of this, she struggled anyway, and Loki found that he admired her fighting spirit, even as he quietly berated her for resisting Thanos' will. Each struggle, each slap against the molten face would be returned in kind. The Titan's cruelty knew no boundaries of good taste, and he had sworn an oath to the trickster.

He chained the woman to the dais where Earth's miniature hovered, the bindings long enough for a struggle. To keep the sessions interesting, Loki knew. He had not seen what the Titan did in the process of adding a member to his adopted family, but he had heard of such things before.

Now Lynn sat on the floor and shivered, coughing more often than not, coated in the very thing which fed her illness. Her fear was a pulsing beat against the trickster's own heart, and he longed to offer her comfort of some fashion. He watched her shiver and wished he could warm her with a gentle spell. He heard the disease rattle in her lungs and his fingers twitched, desperate to pull the invader from her as he had the rest of her species.

He hated her fragility as he watched her now, hands balled and eyes closed. She would not look at him. He knew she had seen him before, when Thanos brought her inside of the chamber. She had looked straight into the trickster's face, met his eyes in an unguarded moment of incredulity. She believed he had betrayed her, and now that they sat alone in this place she would not meet his eyes for her anger and hurt.

Loki refused to name the emotion building inside of him, a strange combination of disappointment and desperation which compelled him to confess all to her. He could not reveal his plans, for he could not shield her mind away as he had so many millennia past - she was a vulnerability to both of them, though she did not see it. He could not tell. He could not tell, and yet he wanted to, how he wanted to wipe the betrayal and pain she must feel from her mind and convince her of his own allegiance.

He might and could betray Thor, and certainly her Avengers, in the heat of the moment. If the need arose for his own survival, he might betray his people, his home, even his mother if the situation were dire enough. He would suffer the naked pain in Thor's eyes, or Sif's, or Frigga's, though the last would clench his chest in shame.

He would not betray the mortal Lynn Creed. Never her. Even now he desired to throw himself at her mercy and beg forgiveness, to tell her his plan so that she knew a plan existed, that he expected to free them both and return them to her home where her friends would care for her.

If he told her, the plan would be ruined.

And so he remained silent, suffering through her refusal to look at him and hating himself despite knowing her safety depended on his silence.

"Amma Lynn," he said in a moment of weakness, and she shook her head and curled her bare toes underneath her feet. Drawing her furthest extremities from him in an effort to increase the distance between them.

"Don't talk to me," she said, and he fell silent. It was fortunate timing, for the Titan entered the room moments after their brief exchange, and might have found them in the middle of Loki's confession. Instead he stepped into the silence hanging between them.

"Enjoy this, boy," the Titan said to him. The sun in miniature roiled behind the trickster's head; he could feel the heat, and the occasional burn as a lick of energy caught in his hair. Thanos looked ready to say more, his sneering face delving deep into Loki's as though he might spot the lie the trickster held close to his heart. He dismissed the trickster a moment later with the barest snort of derision, turning his back and approaching the point of this entire endeavor.

Lynn remained on the floor, her face turned away.

"I have missed you, daughter," the Titan said. She clenched her jaw as Loki clenched his own. "Will you not speak to me?"

"I'm not your daughter," she said. Her voice was hoarse, her breathing ragged. Loki's fingers twitched. He closed his eyes and delved within himself.

"Is that not what you want?" Thanos asked. He stroked her arm and she flinched. "To no longer rely on the hands of  _men_  to protect you? To be invulnerable. Powerful. Regal."

"Space Princess isn't for me," she said. She'd spent too much time with the assassin. Loki felt Thanos' ire and breathed deeply. Lynn said nothing more; she must know she'd pushed too far.

"I see what you think of him, daughter," Thanos said. Loki opened his eyes. Lynn was looking up at the Titan with stark, naked hatred.

"You will be disappointed," Thanos said. "As you always are. Stand now, my daughter. I have something to show you."

Lynn looked away again. Thanos reached and took her by the hair, pulled her to her feet and ignored her hiss of pain. He turned her toward her home, shimmering small in the dark room, lit up by the miniature sun's glow. He stood behind her and held her shoulders. She stared at her planet and trembled.

"Your species limits me," Thanos said. He lifted one hand from her and lowered it down to his belt, where a device lay waiting. He hefted the device, a massive hypodermic with a needle that could safely be called a prong. "Limits the lessons I may teach, and your ability to sustain them. But this." He smiled at Midgard over her head, spinning slowly on its axis. "This will allow you to endure."

She turned and saw what he held, and pulled out of his hand to back against the dais.

"What is that?" she asked. Loki willed her to look away, to look anywhere else but at the device in Thanos' hand.

"You are full of decay," the Titan said. "Your body ages so quickly - why you bother to live at all defies logic."

"Stay away from me," Lynn said. Loki clenched his fists, an open act of defiance missed by the Titan, so focused on his prize. Almost.  _Almost._

"I do nothing but improve you," Thanos said.

"I don't want this," Lynn said. Her nostrils were flared, her eyes wide. She was panting, and it wasn't because of the illness consuming her.

"After all that has been done to you," Thanos said. "All that I have done, in time gone past. This is what you fear?"

He draped a hand behind her neck and pulled her close, an affectionate gesture save for how she struggled.

" _Stop -_ "

"Your body dies too quickly," Thanos said. He pressed the point into the center of her chest, over her heart. Loki could smell her fear.

"I don't -"

"Shhhh, my daughter," Thanos said. Loki reached and pulled, drawing power that was not his own into himself. "It will only last for a lifetime."

He slid the prong home into the center of her chest. She gagged; her hands flew to his wrist, to the device itself. She was trying to pull it from her chest. Thanos held her in that gentle, tight caress as she spasmed in his arms, holding her still as the spine punctured her heart.

The Titan depressed the trigger, and Lynn's eyes rolled back. She convulsed and shuddered around the prong; blood poured from her nose. Loki heard the cracking of bones, her strangled gasps of pain. He watched as she collapsed to the floor, spasms wracking her body. The Titan did not so much as spare him a glance.

He opened himself as a conduit the moment he was able to, already knowing he was too late. .

Loki lashed out in all directions in a flash of singing power, an explosion of unrestrained energy straight from the heart of Yggdrasil's child, Mjolnir, and the Tesseract itself. He aimed the energies into the heart of the sun behind him, its light suddenly blinding, filling every cranny of the room. Loki watched the Titan, waiting for the moment he needed in order to free himself. He waited, and watched, and felt triumph swell in his chest when Thanos finally, finally made a mistake and exposed a weakness.

Thanos shielded his face from the intensity of the light.

Loki reached with his hands and twisted the air, opening a yawning vacuum into the in-between. He dove for Lynn, who still convulsed, blind to the events around her - she felt so light in his arms, so terribly fragile - the trickster made for escape as the burst of energy faded, leaving a seared room in its path. He turned and met the Titan's gaze, fury twisting the molten features, a moment before the puncture sealed.

A howl of rage followed him into the darkness.

* * *

_I told you this was a bad idea._

"This was  _your_  idea."

_I forgot how you tend to ruin things._

"No no, you don't get to blame this on me," Wade said. "Too many corpses? Yeah sure. Not enough booze? Fine.  _This_? Hell no."

_I don't think you can brew booze from a corpse._

"I'm pretty sure that's disgusting to someone," Wade said. He leaned down and picked up a Chitauri blaster, which happened to be attached to a Chitauri arm. "He's not letting go."

_He'll never let go._

"I mean seriously, that door was  _huge_." Wade popped open the dead fingers and tossed the limb aside. "She couldn't move over?"

_You don't appreciate drama._

"I don't appreciate  _stupid_." He hefted the blaster under one arm. "Hey what was I even doing?"

_Failing at getting captured._

"Captivity, blech. Haven't I done that enough this story? I'd like to tap out now."

_You can't while you're on this rock._

"You did that on purpose," he grumbled.

_Maybe._

"They stopped attacking me," Wade said. Forty bodies littered the area, with more trailing behind. "I wonder why."

_It must be your charm._

"I'm a prince."

_Sit and wait._

"Oh boy," he said. "That sure sounds thrilling. A barrel of laughs."

_You're waiting for something._

"Th'fuck am I waiting for? Can't I  _do_  something here?"

_You can shut up and wait._

"Gettin' sassy." He sat on the ass of a dead Chitauri and sighed. "Fine, here I sit, alone and  _bored_. Let's play I Spy."

_I have no eyes._

"That's why I'm gonna win."

_Cute._

A black tear opened in the air several feet away, the edges wavering as though the power fueling them questioned its decision.

_There, see? Who's your daddy._

"Hated that guy," Wade said as he stood and dusted his suit off. He walked for the hole, having nothing better to do.

 _Just get in the hole_.

"That all I ever wanted to hear," Wade said, and stepped into the black.

* * *

Loki laid down Lynn Creed in the crest of Yggdrasil's child, the light coating her in its nourishing glow. He tore a small branch free and ripped it into smaller sections. He tilted her head up, her eyes glassy with the ghosts of pain, and pressed a piece to her lips.

"Eat, Amma Lynn," he said. "Its energy will restore you."

She did not argue; she ate, and slept for a time. The trickster watched over her, removing the chains still bound to her wrists. He had seen her wrists bound too often, and had come to hate the sight. He cleaned her of the muck, wiping her bare skin and changing her clothes with the touch of a finger. She looked more like herself now, garbed in the human wardrobe he remembered from the last night he'd spoken to her before this mess started. The netting on her arms, the sleeveless shirt - he thought she might appreciate her normal clothing, after weeks of borrowed tastes.

He brushed hair back from her face, and guarded her from the dark.

She stirred barely an hour later, and he fed her again. After the third piece she sat up and rubbed her chest, her eyes falling to the side where Yggdrasil's child glowed. She paused when she noticed the netting on her hands, and looked down at herself with a creased brow. She breathed deeply; the rattle was gone.

"I thought it was blinding," she said, looking up at the tree. It was bright, true, but not enough to force one to look away immediately.

"This is Yggdrasil's child," Loki said. "It fuels only one world rather than the Nine."

"Nine times less bright," she said. She stood and he followed her, matching her movements with his own cautious reflections. She smiled up at the tree and covered her face. She had yet to look at him.

"I could not tell you my actions," Loki said as he watched her. He reached for her wrists to check them for injury, knowing there was none there. She let him. "He would have known immediately."

"I know, Loki," Lynn said. Her tone made the trickster pause, and he peered closely into her face. She turned to face him, and he saw no anger or fear.

"You're not angry with me?" he asked, with a sense of wonder and suspicion. Lynn creased her brow, confusion marring her features.

"Because you didn't tell me?" She shook her head and spoke slowly, as though doubting his cognizance. "I knew you couldn't tell me what you were doing."

"But you knew I was working toward something?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "I knew."

"Such faith in me." He had not yet released her wrists.

"I have lots of faith in your unwillingness to lose," she said. She managed to roll her eyes as she said it, a dramatic enough gesture that Loki laughed despite himself.

"Such faith," he whispered, leaning down to press the words against her cheek, "deserves to be rewarded."

"Hey, yeah no problem, I'm into kinky sex too, but as a participant," Wade said from the darkness. He stepped into view a moment later, thumbs of both hands raised. "Unless you're into cat calls," he added as Loki pulled away with a scowl. "Arooooo!"

"Desist," Loki snarled.

"Besides," Lynn said, "it's never a good idea to accept a trickster's reward. I could end up as a marmoset."

"I do not know what a marmoset," Loki began. Wade said over him, "Totally adorbs!"

"Can we leave him?" Loki asked, giving Lynn a plaintive, aggrieved pout. "Don't you find him much more suited to be Thanos' wall ornament?"

"He does already look like a jester," Lynn said. Wade raised his hands.

"Hey whoa, hey! Don't I get a vote?"

"Be serious, Amma Lynn," Loki said. "What possible use could such a creature have in your realm?"

"Comic relief," Wade said. "Prettying up the joint. Pancakes. Everyone loves a well-made pancake!"

"His blood could hold the secret to curing all human diseases," Lynn said. "I guess that's enough of a motive."

"Also pancakes," Wade said.

'Are you ready to go home, Amma Lynn?" Loki asked.

"I'm right here," Wade said.

"Extremely," Lynn said. Loki reached into the air and tugged at Yggdrasil's child, aligning a branch as he willed. When the tear opened, Lynn stepped through without question, trusting him to take her home.

"Did something important just happen?" Wade asked after she vanished into the ether. "Is this character development? Is that why I'm still on the fence?"

Loki sighed and pressed the tips of his fingers to the tear, maintaining the opening with a surge of power.

"It is only for the fragility of her species that I bring you," Loki said.

"You didn't include me in that species," Wade said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"No," Loki said. "I did not."


	32. Choice

The Avengers were kind. Tony fell on her when she stepped into their midst, gripping her shoulders and checking her for injuries. He wrapped a hand behind her neck and held her close, the touch affectionate and warm. Fatherly.

Lynn felt cold.

He told her that she and Loki had been gone, completely gone, for nearly three weeks, until just yesterday Heimdall had summoned Thor to tell him he caught sight of Loki within the Chitauri realm. She told them time hadn't passed so quickly for them. She didn't know how; she didn't care enough to answer questions. Jane, who was there in person now, pestered her until Lynn stopped answering.

"I think it's because you were pulled through Loki's time pocket," the physicist said, excitement making her giddy. "I think it messed with your timeline."

"I didn't want this," she said to Jane, but the physicist barely heard her.

They told her the plan had worked - the Ridley strain was gone, apparently eradicated. Deaths had continued among those too far progressed to survive, their immune systems turning on their own cells when the invaders were ripped free. Hydra and the Ten Rings were floundering in the wake of an apparent miracle, unable to convince those who had sympathized with their ideologies that this sudden departure of humanity's greatest threat wasn't the work of God's hand.

Tony told her it was close enough to the truth. Churches were having a field day.

She laughed when she was supposed to laugh, looked morose when it was appropriate. She told them all she was tired, and left the group for her "brand new alien-free quarters," as Tony called it.

Bruce offered to escort her. When the others were out of sight, he simply pulled her aside and hugged her tightly, shielding her from reality for a short while.

She hugged him back and closed her eyes, content to let him protect her in whatever small way he could.

"Maybe I can survive you now," she said weakly, and he laughed into her ear. He pulled away and searched her face. She met his eyes and felt dull, muted - as though the colors and sounds around her no longer held their meaning.

Bruce gently knocked her under the chin, pulled at the netting on her arms, and smiled a warm, sad smile.

"It gets better sometimes," he said. "When you forget."

* * *

After a week had passed, Steve expressed concern to Tony about Lynn.

"Doesn't she seem different to you?" he asked the inventor as Tony prodded his latest gadget, a smaller version of the Tesseract's container. Jane was insistent upon opening further trade routes between Asgard and Earth which eliminated the need for reliance on either the Tesseract or the Bifrost, and her enthusiasm for the project spurred both Tony and Thor into compliance.

"She's recovering from a killer ick," Tony said. "I'd be downright hostile."

"It's more than that," Steve said. "She doesn't seem engaged -"

"Nobody's getting engaged without my say-so," Tony said tightly, and Steve raised his eyebrows. Tony shrugged.

"That Brent guy called thirty-five times while she was gone," he said. "Some of the messages were...more than friendly worry."

"Who's Brent?" Steve asked, and Tony relished how easily distracted other people could be.

Thor, for his part, noticed a pallor in his brother's countenance. In his concern he pulled Loki aside and drew a truncated version of the story from his brother, only to find no satisfactory answer for either Lynn or Loki's dissonance. It was Sif who later demanded the extent of the story from Loki's lips, and found herself shocked by the revelation.

"Can't you change it, Loki?" she asked when he was done. His scowl in her direction only prodded her further. "You have done as much before - if it is only his seiðr -"

"It was not seiðr," Loki said. "He changed her very being, down to the core." Loki glanced back, where Steve spoke with Natasha about some mission they intended.

"She is no longer human," he said. "At least, not as much as she was."

"You did not say if you can reverse it," Sif said. Loki sighed.

"I can," he said. "I should. It is a matter of will alone."

"You do not want to," Sif said. Steve laughed behind them, and Natasha pressed a hand to his arm. Sif watched them with open fondness. She dipped her voice low, below the threshold for human ears.

"I understand, Loki," she said. "You must know that I do."

"And yet you would not ponder it so," Loki said, his voice bitter. "How happy you must be, Sif, to become my confidant once more. I am sure you have missed it."

"I have," she said, and he clenched his jaw. "I said once that we would regret that day, when we attacked Jötunheimr for no reason other than your brother's foolish pride."

"You hated me then," Loki said.

"Yes," she said. They looked at each other, understanding passing between them. A sudden, easy smile lit upon her face, and she took his hand in both of hers and kissed the back, over his knuckles.

"I have missed my friend," Sif said.

"Council me then," Loki said. "Tell me that I must undo what Thanos has done, and return mortality to her."

"I cannot," Sif said. Loki looked at her in surprise; she was looking back at Steve and Natasha. Tony had entered the conversation, introducing an apparent but good-natured disagreement between the two men which Natasha refereed.

"He has outlived most of his friends and all of his family," she said. "He lives in a time not his own. It causes him great grief, to endure while others have perished.

"And yet he is here, now, and if given the choice I would selfishly choose the same path for him." Sif looked at Loki. "Am I not terrible, for thinking such thoughts?"

"What would you do, if it were you?" Loki asked. "What would you say, with your noble heart of hearts?"

"I would ask him," she said. "I would respect his wishes. And…"

Loki waited for her to continue. When she remained silent, he prodded gently.

"Sif?" he asked.

"And I might hate him a bit, if he made the choice I did not want him to," Sif said.

"I did not plan to ask," Loki said, and Sif laughed quietly.

"Loki," Sif said. She shook her head, frustration battling with amusement. "You must  _ask_  a woman what she wants. You must never assume."

Loki laughed quietly. "Is this your revenge at last?"

"What?" Sif tilted her head, shaking it slightly.

"I know well what she wants," Loki ground out. "To be rid of this life - of  _me_. All of the horrors she has witnessed - death, and now life,  _eternal_  - that is because of me."

"Loki," Sif said. She rested a hand upon his shoulder, and he glanced at her from the corner of his eyes.

"Perhaps what she needs is a reminder that a long life and a lonely life are not equals," she said.

* * *

Lynn sat on the couch Tony had given her, in the quarters Tony had given her, and tried to remember what motivation felt like. She was a driven person, and had been her entire life; now she sat, and brooded, and hated herself a little for it. She was not the type to mope. And yet…

She rubbed her chest over her heart, and wondered if she would ever stop feeling the sting there. Tony had told her once that he could still feel Yggdrasil's root burrowed deep into his chest, and Bruce had repeated the same. Now she shared a similar wound.

The puncture healed well. There was no scar.

A demure knock pulled Lynn from her thoughts and to her feet. She approached the door and opened it, expecting Steve or Bruce on the other side. Loki peered down at her instead, and she blinked in surprise.

"You don't knock," she said in confusion. "You've never knocked."

"Perhaps I am trying to develop better habits," the trickster said. Lynn, in no mood to argue, let him in.

"Bruce knows," Lynn said as she wiped her face, removing the tears they both pretended were not there. The quarters Tony had given her were spacious by even Asgardian standards. "I asked him how. He said he knows the look of someone who sees too many years ahead."

"Are there ever enough years, for creatures as short-lived as humans?" Loki asked. Lynn laughed without mirth.

"I don't want to live forever," she said as she looked out at the cityscape below. "I haven't even always wanted to live  _this_  life."

"I have lived over a thousand years, Amma Lynn," Loki said. "I have not always enjoyed my years, but I have not regretted them."

"I was born a human," Lynn said. "I'll watch everyone I know grow old and die, and then…"

She was staring at the city beneath her, seeing brittle rubble thousands of years from now, when Tony and Steve and all the rest were dead and gone.

"I could fix what was done to you," Loki said behind her. Lynn closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath. Relief made her giddy.

"That's what I want," she said. She opened her eyes and turned to see Loki looking down at her, his face an impassive mask.

"Can you really do it?" she asked, because she couldn't think of another reason for the delay.

"Yes," he said. She crossed her arms and bit her bottom lip.

"But?" He was hesitating, and she didn't intend to let him think much longer.

"There is another option," he said slowly, carefully. As though he were afraid of the words as he spoke them.

"Which is?"

He was staring her down, nearly looking  _through_ her. He looked so afraid to speak.

"Humans live such short spans of time," he said. "You cannot serve as a leash if you are dead."

Lynn had thought this herself, on a beach millions of lightyears away from here. She stared at him and said nothing. Loki turned his face away. His arms shifted behind his back, his hands out of sight.

"I can remove Thanos' influence tomorrow or a century from now," Loki said. "Even a millenia. You could stay, Amma Lynn, for a time. If you wished."

She found her voice as her mind's eye looked ahead, far into the years when she would be worn down long before he would consider himself done with her.

"And when I'm ready?" she asked, watching him closely. He kept his gaze locked outside, refusing to meet her eyes. "In a century, when watching my friends die is too much for me - what would you say if I asked you then?"

He blinked once, slowly. A deliberate rewetting of his eyes.

"You'd say no," she said. "We both know you'd say no. And if I don't ask - if I don't, and you die because of - of -  _whatever_ , when that happens, where will I be, Loki?"

"You do not trust me," he said.

"I never have," Lynn said honestly. He smiled at the window, chuckled to himself, and turned to face her.

"I will show Thor," he said, and she creased her brow. "He harnesses infinite power; yes, he can undo this as well as I can, and possibly better, for he is nobler of heart than I."

"Thor would do as I asked," she said, "regardless of your wishes."

"You've come to know him, Amma Lynn," Loki said. "What do you think he would do?"

He would honor her wishes without argument or attempt to guilt her into a few more stolen years. He would accept her decision quietly, gracefully, and without conflict.

Lynn crossed her arms and shivered, once, though there was no breeze. She felt so much fear…

"A long life and a lonely life need not be equals, Amma Lynn," Loki said gently. She looked up at him, at the hopeful crease between his eyes. She thought of ancient beasts in the desert, and a beach on an alien world, and she found herself at a complete loss for what to do.

"Everyone's safe now," she said. "You'll take me to that beach again, won't you?"

"Yes," he said. "I promise you that."

"The promise of a trickster," she said with a small smile. "It's not worth much."

"You are aware of that limitation, which makes you wiser than most," he said. Lynn was moving, unable to stand still; she picked up her guitar, a source of comfort when stressed, and sat down on Tony's fine couch. Loki watched her from the window, a conscious decision to avoid crowding her with his presence.

He wouldn't have cared a year ago. She waved him over, and he sat on the fortified coffee table in the center of the room. Familiarity made her throat ache.

"I need time to think," she said as she strummed gently. Loki nodded.

"That is fair," he said. "It is your choice, after all."

She looked at him, looked  _through_  him, and barely saw anything she properly recognized anymore. The revelation lifted her spirits, and with them, with tentative fluttering and some nervous resistance, her heart.

"I'll sing you a song," she said, and watched as Loki smiled with his entire being, as though he had waited all this time for those words alone.

 _Fin_.


End file.
